The Power of Silence

Lake Superior, turbulent again, as she rushes from the southwest to the west and rises with the wind. Good, long rain last night so fire danger has been lowered. How grateful I am for the song she sings each day. To be in silence in her presence. To absorb the energy through all of my senses. A Gift beyond measure.

Last week, I spoke on a radio program and the host asked me to read several of my poems. I found that I missed 'public' reading. Today, then, I share with you a poem befitting the theme.

And All the Rest Is Silence

Let time go by,
let suns rise,
and I'll still be here.
When the sky hugs
the returning geese,
I will still be here;
there will be no words,
just the embrace
of muted horizons,
a memory of wintry syllables
across the night sky.
There will be love,
just love,
and all the rest is silence.

Shades of Grey

Early evening and the sky meets the sweetwater sea in a dance of subtleties: slate grey water, variegated sky. Wind from the south, offshore, so mild and and soft adrift on the shoreline, but singing in the canopy of aged pines. Tonight, I think of Lighthouse Keepers on this Keweenaw Peninsula during the ninteenth century and of the captains of pioneer vessels and members of the crew. This, the time of ice-out, of shipping and shipwrecks, as reefs and gale winds called them to their end.

Around the point, huge planks of an old wreck have washed ashore, more than a hundred years old. What a tale they tell by their presence. Or the little hand-carved horse I found which sits on the camp table. Whose Louisa would receive this precious gift from father when he came home to port? A father whose beautiful work has now found its way into my hand.

Gifts from Lady Lake in memory of those lost at sea.

Island Guardian

Just in front of our log camp, an ancient glacial rock island encloses our lagoon. On those days with gale force winds, we feel protected and privileged as we watch the huge waves thunder into this little island and run in rivulets and waterfalls over the other side, tamed by their encounter. 'Three Sister Waves' inevitably appear on these ferocious days.

Today, the mergansers have been cruising in the shallows, diving for minnows in tandem cooperation. A few days ago, I witnessed the same with loons. A pair moving south called to a trio further out on the glistening water. All five came into the waters just beyond our island guardian and fished in formation, just as the mergansers did today.

Innately, the waterfowl know this behavior. They know they are not the sweetwater sea herself; they are waves in her presence. To succeed, they must collaborate to capture their prey.

They teach us to see that we too, like them, are not the water, but the wave. We are part of the universal sea; our presence ripples through the waters of life, little wavelets in the boundless waters of creation and magnificent beauty. Once we recognize our place in the world, fear dissolves, for what have we to fear? We are planetary inhabitants, spiritual beings in a physical vessel, who can, with our meditation and intent, collaborate to bring Light into the world.

As I watch the water, I think of this, and I feel consoled in the knowledge that like the loon and merganser, I have a special place in this world, chosen before this lifetime. And I have a purpose in this world, as do we all, as we connect with people throughout the world. The global village sparkles with the light of our Journey from here to otherwhere. May our paths connect, may we choose to travel together and bring Joy into the world.