August 3rd, 2017
It does not matter the state I am in, when I begin to read the words, my heart is transformed. And oh how I read of Kreed in these pages- and my own life too.
When I think of him I feel- I remember, I have to go on.
To love the world the way he loved the world.
To feel the world the way he felt the world.
To experience what this world had to offer.
But that's not always so easy- I miss the way he experienced this world.
The way he FELT this world.
I get locked into numbness and distracted by the comings and goings of this world. Do that. Don't forget this. A million things to do. We forget to just be.
To just experience the wind whipping across my body. The sounds and stillness of the creek. The wonder and beauty of the canyon at sunrise. The hummingbirds call and small body darting here and there.
We forget that sometimes it's enough to just exist.
To feel peace. Happiness. Solace.
Oh do you have time
for just a little while
out of your busy
for the goldfinches
that have gathered
in a field of thistles
to see who can sing
the highest note,
or the lowest,
or the most tender?
Their strong, blunt beaks
drink the air
not for your sake
and not for mine
but for sheer delight and gratitude—
believe us, they say,
it is a serious thing
on this fresh morning
in the broken world.
I beg of you,
to attend to this
rather ridiculous performance.
It could mean everything.
It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:
You must change your life.
- Mary Oliver, Invitation
July 31st, 2017
As I began my hike today, I passed by some geese I don't normally see. Instantly I thought of this poem:
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
And I thought of Kreed who loved what he loved and felt joy simply- for the world was a wonder to him. Now I hike daily in the early hours of the morning finding ways to love again and see the beauty of the world. The day he left us it felt like the dark clouds came rolling in and began the storm. It has raged over us for over a year and I didn't think or know if we would ever get through it. I still don't know. But the mornings I hike and stare up at the sun and feel it's warmth and see the beauty of this world, sometimes I wonder.
I wonder if we just start again.
I wonder if we find joy again.
I wonder if we find happiness.
And if it feels different.
I wonder how we live in this world without the most joyful and innocent of souls.
And I sit and stare out over the vast expanse of nature before me and know at the very least, we must keep going. We are here. Alive. Breathing. The world offers itself to us and somehow we have to find ourselves again.
July 30th, 2017
Then I met Kreed. And for years I didn't read nor did I need to because we were experiencing what people write books about. I watched him in the sun and the joy of his hopping through the forest or the way he stopped and felt the wind whip passed his body. Or how he stared at the wonder of a waterfall. Or pressed his face into the cool water, wanting every sense he had to feel what nature had to offer.
I hike now in the early morning, maybe in some attempt to find him there. To feel what he felt. To see what he saw. To hear what he heard. To immerse myself in the feeling of being in such a beautiful place that only offers itself in all its majesty and nothing more. And I search for the joy he found in those moments. I miss him.