The Silence of Pelicans

The poignancy of a photograph comes from looking back to a fleeting moment in a floating world. The transitoriness is what creates the sense of the sacred

Allen Ginsberg

Pelicans sailing

slowly toward me -

squadron of silence

it seems impossible such a large bird can fly so gracefully

and float so easily.

Powerful wings lift them, soaking wet, from the ocean,

as they fly, and turn, and dive back into the water.

The heavens are full of floating mysteries.

Thomas Buchanan Read

Tuesday morning was exuberant chaos on the beach. The waves were crashing, the wind was thundering. Surfers were shouting to each other back and forth about the best spots, then fighting their way through the chop past the break. Along the coast, people who gathered for the sunrise were laughing and talking and taking many, many pictures.

Then came the pelicans, drifting gracefully on the wind, wings wide, almost, but not quite - hovering. I looked up and the hush of delight I felt created a vacuum of sound that seemed to be so beautifully long but was really only a moment. I was sure when I let down my camera that there would be a group of people around me, all staring off to where the pelicans flew, but it was just me - returning to the sea of sound. And that was also magical. Like it was just my moment. What a gift.

Thank you so much for being here. See you next week!

A line of pelicans flying close to the surface to spare their wings some effort.

Morning Ritual

When we do what we love, again and again, our life comes to hold the fragrance of that thing.

Wayne Muller

I wake in the dark of morning

and wherever in the world I am -

I walk outdoors.

Morning calls.

I feel the breath of it

on my skin,

hear its music,

the sound of waking birds,

filling my ears.

My mind is quiet.

Worry has not woken.

Only wonder walks with me,

as I watch the moon

departing,

and the first light of dawn

breaking over the fields;

into the trees.

No matter what the day

before has brought me -

No matter what dreams

haunted my sleep -

I wake in the dark of morning

and wherever in the world I am

I walk outdoors.

Morning calls.

Sunrise through barbed wire and a thorny vine

I hear the sound of birds singing above me

Texas sun blazing through the bare oak branches

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A starling sings from the top of the utility pole, silhouetted against the gradually lightening sky.

Every morning it’s a little different - a haze on the horizon softens the edges of light

A big buck staring across the field toward the rising sun

Above the trees in the big Texas sky

The sacred is not in heaven or far away. It is all around us, and small human rituals can connect us to its presence. And of course the greatest challenge (and gift) is to see the sacred in each other.

Alma Luz Villanueva

I had to make a road trip to Texas this week - it was quickly thrown together, and it could have felt rushed and stressful, except for my daily pre-dawn walk outdoors. There is always this quiet time before the sun rises, when I can be outside and walk in peace, before worries or plans begin to fill my mind. I go out in cold, in rain, in snow, in wind, in heat -whatever the weather. It is harder to do somedays than others, but I never regret doing it. It is a ritual that comforts me by making every place I go feel familiar. Wherever there is a morning, I am home.

Hope your week was beautiful too. See you next week.

The waning moon in the early morning hours, just before sunrise in Texas