Enter the wild with care, my love
And speak the things you see
Let new names take and root and thrive and grow
And even as you travel far from heather, crag, and river
May you like the little fisher, set the stream alight with glitter
THE LOST WORDS BLESSING Original song by Julie Fowlis, Karine Polwart, Seckou Keita, Kris Drever, Rachel Newton, Beth Porter, Jim Molyneux, Kerry Andrew.
This past week has been busy, like the kind of busy that is just too much. My son played on Monday in a 36 hole golf tournament. (Yes, they play all 36 holes in one day. Yes, it's 8 plus hours of golf. Yes, it's crazy.) The tournament was in Twin Falls (2 plus hours from our home.) The NEXT morning he played an 18 hole tournament in Wilder, Idaho (1 hour in the opposite direction with an 8:00 a.m. tee time). My daughter played a 9 hole match-play tournament later on Tuesday afternoon. Like I said, too much. It was a slog. It felt like a marathon.
I'm still recovering from the physical and primarily mental challenges of these long, intense, competitive days.
There was a lot of driving, tending, processing, planning, and doing Sunday through Wednesday. I had to just keep collecting small moments—moments of joy, delight, and grace in the middle of all of it to keep myself going. When the pace feels too fast and too much, sometimes it's the smallest thing that can keep us on track.
These were a few of the moments smallest moments that I "caught" amid the marathon.
Watching a blue heron fly down the Snake River while my son hit his first tee shot at the second tournament.
Watching a squadron of pelicans in a murmuration in the Snake River Canyon
Finishing a book that I didn't expect to love and ended up loving.
Visits from hummingbirds in my backyard and on several golf courses.
Seeing the smile on my daughter's face after she made a super long putt for birdie in a tournament.
Being with my son when he paused to noticed interesting clouds.
Being with my daughter as we were awed by the majestic Shoshone falls
Listening to this podcast while driving across Southern Idaho
Discovering this album. The soundtrack of my week.
Notice the small moments. Collect them. Savor them. Write a list. (As overwhelming as the past week was, the process of writing the list I shared above shifted my memories towards the delights and blessings that were there hiding in plain sight.)
Recently Read
Daisy Jones and The Six By Taylor Jenkins Reid
This book is the fictional story of a 70's rock band. It's written in the form of interviews with all the band members—a very unexpected form of writing. Because it's written in interviews, you never really know what exactly happened; you hear from different people about the same events, thirty years removed. It explores what memories are and how the stories we tell ourselves as we move forward create memories. I had a lump in my throat at the end of the book. I didn't see that coming. I enjoyed this book way more than I thought I would.
What Comes After by JoAnne Tompkins
This book might be my favorite book of the year so far. It's the story of broken people finding hope and healing in the messiness of life. There is a bit of mystery, character development, spiritual insights, and a very loveable dog. One of the main characters is a classic Quaker, and I loved reading about how his faith informed his life. I finished this book in just two days and loved it.
(Read the publisher description of the book here)
A Book I Can't Stop Thinking About
Remote: Finding Home in the Bitterroots by DJ Lee
I heard an interview from our local book store last year in the middle of Covid with this author. I enjoyed the interview and decided to read the book. It's about the Bitterroot mountains in Idaho and Montana. A friend of the author, a woman who spent her summers hosting a remote landing strip and station deep in the Bitterroots, went missing. It's a reflection of place, meaning, purpose, wilderness, and hope. It a really niche Idaho book. It's been almost a year since I read it, and I'm still thinking about the wilderness community and the power of place.
(I try and pay attention to words or phrases that stand out to me in my reading and listening. There is a spiritual practice called Florliledgium that collects short, interesting pieces {words that “sparkle” up} and put them together. This is kind of like that. Watching for things that sparkle. Gathering them and seeing how they work together and what message, mantra, or new idea might arise.)
A Practice:
Read slowly.
Notice if a word or phrase stands out to you.
How do the words make you feel?
Is there an invitation?
(I’m sharing in italics the lines that stand out to me in these passages. Maybe it’s the same, or maybe it’s different, there is much food for thought in each of these passages)
THE LOST WORDS BLESSING
Original song by Julie Fowlis, Karine Polwart, Seckou Keita, Kris Drever, Rachel Newton, Beth Porter, Jim Molyneux, Kerry Andrew.
Enter the wild with care, my love
And speak the things you see
Let new names take and root and thrive and grow
And even as you travel far from heather, crag, and river
May you like the little fisher, set the stream alight with glitter
May you enter now as otter without falter into water
Look to the sky with care, my love
And speak the things you see
Let new names take and root and thrive and grow
And even as you journey on past dying stars exploding
Like the gilded one in flight, leave your little gifts of light
And in the dead of night, my darling,
find the gleaming eye of starling
Like the little aviator, sing your heart to all dark matter
Walk through the world with care, my love
And sing the things you see
Let new names take and root and thrive and grow
And even as you stumble through machair sands eroding
Let the fern unfurl your grieving, let the heron still your breathing
Let the selkie swim you deeper, oh my little silver-seeker
Even as the hour grows bleaker, be the singer and the speaker
And in the city and in the forest, let the larks become your chorus
And when every hope is gone, let the raven call you home
Read more about this song here and hear it sung. (it's so worth the read, you'll be sad and inspired.)
It was my habit to engage in a process of discernment, and I did so then. It’s nothing more, really than sitting in stillness. Some would call it meditation, but I don’t think of it that way. When I do, my mind becomes busy with judgments about my posture or the thoughts that invariably pass through. I question if it is okay to shift position or scratch an itch. No, my process was nothing as complicated as meditation. I simply waited for the murk of my mind to settle, to reveal the answer already there.
-JoAnne Tompkins What Comes After
“Paths are the habits of a landscape. They are acts of consensual making. It's hard to create a footpath on your own...Paths connect. This is their first duty and their chief reason for being. They relate places in a literal sense, and by extension they relate people.
Paths are consensual, too, because without common care and common practice they disappear: overgrown by vegetation, ploughed up or built over (through they may persist in the memorious substance of land law). Like sea channels that require regular dredging to stay open, paths NEED walking.”
― Robert MacFarlane, The Old Ways: A Journey on Foot
