Swan Sanctuary

Time, as we know, is a man made construct. It does not actually exist. Still, nearly every human being adheres to the fictitious belief in it. They live their lives based upon it. They even judge themselves according to their “age”. The month of November has come and almost gone. It feels as though time marches faster, the older I get; but when I was a child, a day at school could seem like an eternity. When I was an adolescent, I felt the day would never come, when I would graduate high school.

I have not worn a watch since the early 1990’s. I rarely even look at a clock because I am a pretty good judge of time without one. Daylight Savings time, which I strongly dislike, does throw me off for a while. Night time is a different story. I often wake, or am awakened, during the middle of the night. On a couple of occasions, when the electricity had gone out, I was distraught because my clock was without power. It has a backup battery, but I had failed to replace it. I, too, suffer from the addiction to time when it is the middle of the night. I need to see the display on my clock so that I know how much sleep I am getting – or losing, whichever the case may be. 

For centuries, human beings lived without our modern conveniences. They woke up with the sun and went to bed when it became dark. A greater percent of their lives was spent out of doors where they could maneuver through their day by the position of the sun. How different would our lives be if it was the quality of our work that truly mattered, rather than the minutes on a clock? We have seen how hard ants work carrying items twice their size back to their nest and worker bees as they gather pollen to take back to their hive. I doubt these hard working insects have any sort of time pieces to compel them to work. They know that working together as a team ensures their survival. If we all gave our best each day to the task at hand, unimpeded by time constraints, our own species might come to appreciate work as a kind of enjoyment, rather than a means to an end. Instead of working to make money to pay bills and buy more useless stuff, we could live and work in the moment. We could be happy now instead of postponing it until payday.

My husband and I began recycling in the mid 1970’s. You would think that by now, recycling would be a common practise everywhere. Nearly fifty years later; however, we seem to have back slided. There were only slightly more than 4 billion people on the planet in 1975. We currently have 7.9 billion – nearly twice as many humans than we had fifty years ago! This means we have at least double the amount of plastics, glass, and cans entering landfills – probably more because the number of bottled sodas, enhanced waters, beer, wine, and other drinks has multiplied dramatically. This is one of the largest contributors to our waste problem. We must not forget about the waste from fast food chains, disposable gloves, needles, and other medical waste, diapers from grownups as well as babies, plastic flower pots, and the millions of appliances and electronic devices that come with only a one year guarantee. We must now add disposable masks to that list, thanks to the pandemic.

There was a time when empty bottles could be returned for a few cents. Some states still offer this incentive, but for the most part, the world has become apathetic, lazy, and unwilling to do anything about this growing problem. A few Scandinavian and European countries have implemented excellent recycling programs, along with deposits offered for returning containers. It seems that the United States has fallen far behind other countries in many of our social norms. I find this more than a little embarrassing. We are supposedly the richest country in the world, but clearly we are not the brightest. 

Our growing garbage problem is not going away. It is a problem for other species that often become entangled in the trash or poisoned by it. It winds up in their quickly disappearing habitat. If you have never watched the film, Winged Migration, I highly recommend that you do. I have run up against a wall in this town where I have landed. Their recycling facility, which had been in operation only a few short years, and did not accept glass,  closed when COVID19 quarantined most of the world. Now they will only accept cardboard. I am on a mission now, to find a nearby town where I can drop off my recycles. I cannot not compost and I cannot not recycle.

Yesterday, I made the long and arduous journey from Wheatland, Wyoming to south Denver, so that I could spend Thanksgiving with my two oldest daughters, grandchildren, and great granddaughters. The wind between here and Cheyenne is something to be reckoned with. Sustained winds of 40+ MPH and gusts upwards of 65 MPH makes driving into a workout for my arms. I had to grip the steering wheel so hard that the arthritis in my hands began to flare up. Today even my neck and arms are sore. Newer vehicles, driven by younger people with better eyesight, flew past me, seemingly oblivious to the conditions. 

The highway was closed to lighter, high profile vehicles. I had to wonder what constitutes “light” in this circumstance. I know that I was incredibly grateful to have made it to Denver and back again in one piece. On my way there, I stopped at the Cheyenne welcome center to use the facilities. My hands had become too warm while I was driving and I managed to remove my gloves, placing them in my lap for the time being because I couldn’t take my hands off the steering wheel. I told myself that I should put them in a safe place before getting out of my truck so that they wouldn’t fall out and become lost. Of course, I forgot. After I returned from the restroom, I saw one glove lying on the ground next to my truck. I could not find the other one. I was quite angry with myself since the gloves were brand new, cashmere lined leather – warm and good for gripping the steering wheel. Then, as I began to back out from my parking space, I saw the wind pick up the other glove and begin to carry it down the steep grassy hill. I jumped out and ran after it – not an easy thing to do for someone my age, in clogs. I was able to get to the glove before the wind could snatch it away again, from where it lay halfway down the hill. 

Was this luck? Perhaps it was good luck or perhaps I have a guardian angel who looks after me. Whatever the reason, I am grateful. It is the small things. It is the little, everyday miracles that keep me rooted in presence and fill my heart with gratitude.

Happy Thanksgiving to all whom I did not send a personal thanksgiving wish! I love this holiday. It was Meister Eckhart who said, “If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough.” I begin each morning in meditation and in gratitude for so many things. Years ago, I studied the Science of Mind. They teach a 5 step formula for prayer in which thanksgiving is the 4th step. A few years ago, I decided that beginning my prayers with thank you just feels better. 

I love everything about the Thanksgiving holiday. I love the beautiful fall colors of November. I love the fact that it occurs in the same month as my birthday. I love to cook and to set a beautiful table; and I love the special time that I get to spend with loved ones and friends. It is a day that I like to think about all the things I am grateful for, that have transpired since the previous Thanksgiving. It is a little bit like a new year. 

I find it sad that so many downplay this holiday, or simply want to “get through it”. While so much of the world wants to dive into the holiday shopping spree and make so much of Christmas, I prefer to extend the warmth and giving-ness of Thanksgiving. It is about giving thanks and it is about giving. Instead of giving gifts, Thanksgiving is about giving love and sharing from the depths of our hearts through the delicious meals that we prepare. Thanksgiving is a time when the soul can be fed as well as the belly.

I read in the news that Target® plans to be closed on Thanksgiving. This is good news. I hope that soon other retail stores will follow suit. Consumerism has driven our society for far too long. Since my childhood, stores have stayed open later and later. Over the years, holidays began to be disregarded and many stores began staying open all night long. Driving through Denver in recent years, you encounter traffic regardless of the time of day or night. I am sure it is the same in major cities across America. New York became known as the city that never sleeps and later on, Chicago was a second contender for the reference.

Will we one day look back upon this time as one in which the general population was sick from the overindulgence of material things? Our unwillingness to stop and rest has created problems that most refuse to see. We may have greater availability of food and water than we had 150, or more years ago; but we have more people who are sick. Millions of people suffer from insomnia.

The distraction of electronic devices coupled with blue lights, street lamps, and other lights beaming at us from all directions, contribute to the disappearing darkness. The near constant noise of traffic, televisions, and radio stations all add to the discordant harmony, accompanied by dogs barking, appliances humming, and power tools screeching. All of this noise and light contributes to the lack of sleep in many. People are tired. Their weariness turns into anger and hostility. It appears as road rage, drug addiction, suicide, and murder. 

I am not a religious person, but I believe that society is suffering a kind of malnourishment from the lack of regular days of rest. I wish that we could go back to a time when stores closed at a reasonable hour and all were closed on Sundays. How much more peaceful would we be, as a society, if we devoted one day to spending quality time with our loved ones and families? Could we go back to having Sunday dinners and simply sitting on the porch, relaxing? When we recognize that consumerism is an addiction, just as dangerous as television and white sugar, we come to understand that we have the power to say no. Let’s begin to say no to stores being open on holidays and Sundays. Let’s say no to Daylight Savings Time, which in truth, saves us no time. Let’s create more peace in our lives by devoting one day a week to promoting it. Let’s begin by turning out the lights once in a while.

Those who know me, know that whenever I move into a new place, the first thing I do is set up my birdbath and erect my feeders. I have had birds show up within a couple of hours in some places. I am puzzled now, as to why I have had so few visitors in my new place. There are plenty of trees around – not in my yard, but across the street and nearby. After nearly a week, the house sparrows began to show up in the early morning and the evening only. Eventually, the European starlings appeared and bathed in the birdbath. I have also seen a robin drinking there. A lone flicker has visited the suet from time to time and looks to be a juvenile. But, the constant activity that I have become accustomed to, is lacking here. 

I have seen as many as three cottontails sunning themselves in the yard. One hung out beneath the birdbath for several hours one day. I occasionally see squirrels running by, too. I have begun feeding them as well, along with the bluejays, for whom I set out a handful of peanuts each morning. I know that I am not the only one in the neighborhood feeding the birds. My feeder pole is out in the sun, in the open, where it is safe from lurking predators. It has a raccoon baffle to deter both raccoons and squirrels. I offer a variety of seed and I toss a cracked corn mixture on the ground around the feeder, for the European collared doves and other ground feeding birds. Still, the feeders are disappointingly empty for most of the day. 

I know that I will never have the large number of bird species here that I so loved in the northeast. While I have no large trees in my yard, I have numerous deciduous shrubs that offer cover for the birds. Perhaps when the weather gets truly wintry, they will appreciate my offerings. When spring arrives, months from now, I can plant trees, flowers, and herbs to help bring in more birds. I do not know where all the birds have gone, but I will be patient and I will create habitat for them that I know will attract them. In the meantime, I will continue to wait and watch for them. I will keep track in my wildlife journal, what birds and animals show up and when. Hopefully, sometime in the future, I can add a happy sequel to today’s blog.

My heart goes out to the millions of immigrants having to flee their native countries because of racism, poverty, and oppression. We see these families on the news, undertaking dangerous journeys, the children sometimes being separated from their parents. There is another side to their stories though, that is not often considered. The impact that these people are having on the environment is equally problematic.

There is a stretch of rainforest connecting North and South America, known as Darién’s Gap, that is being used as an escape route for migrants trying to reach the southern border of the US. This was once a pristine forest that was rarely imposed upon by humans. This 60 mile wide jungle was home to songbirds, monkeys, snakes, and other wildlife. Today, the bird song has been replaced with the sound of motorcycles plowing through the mud as they transport people between Columbia and Panama. Refugees come from Haiti, Cuba, Venezuela, and even India and Africa. More than 100 thousand families have crossed through the area in this past year alone. 

A major drug cartel (the Gulf Clan) has overtaken these woods, capitalizing on those willing to pay, to be transported through the treacherous forest. Robbery, rape, and murder have become a ubiquitous part of this deteriorating landscape. The Atrato river is filling up with human waste and garbage such as diapers and even clothing. The recent activity is taking its toll on already threatened species like the spider monkey and also on the small indigenous communities that live there. Deforestation generally occurs when forests are clearcut to make room for subdivisions and shopping malls, and to implement non-sustainable farming; but in Darién’s Gap it is being illegally bulldozed by weapon carrying cartels and millions of human footsteps trampling it. 

How can we help these immigrants to have a better life for themselves and their families and at the same time, ensure that they tread lightly upon the earth? How do we educate them to practise birth control, to recycle, and to revere the earth, regardless where they are living? It is our moral duty to help them, but it is just as much our responsibility to protect the planet that has given us life. These are weighty problems, but they are not insurmountable. We may not personally have the ability to address these challenges, but we can pray for those people and join others who are seeking to raise our human collective consciousness.

I am celebrating my birthday today. I feel immense gratitude for the many experiences that I have had throughout the past 69 years. For reasons I am not sure of, God has always had my back – through good times and bad. While my life has been a seemingly endless stream of challenges, I have had privileges that at times, made me feel like the most fortunate woman in the world. 

The first and most amazing gift that came into my life was my first born daughter. She was born at home easily and naturally. My second daughter followed two years later, also born at home. The third daughter came into the world seemingly effortlessly, on a beautiful and sunny Sunday morning, surrounded by her father, two older sisters, one grandmother, and our cat, who nursed her kittens while I labored to give birth. My daughters were perfect and healthy. I have watched them grow into strong and extraordinary women. They are now my best friends. 

After my daughters were raised, I began a journey to pursue my dreams. My biggest dream was to have property with a pond and swans swimming on it. That dream, as you know, eventually came to pass. I was, in Joseph Campbell’s words, “living my bliss”. It was these phenomenal experiences that made my insignificant existence, one that meant the world to me.
As I set foot into another year of my life, it is with the hope that I can inspire a few of my younger family members, as my own grandmothers inspired me. My two great-granddaughters came to visit me this past Sunday. I had not yet met the two year old and I had seen the three year old only once when she was a baby. They did not treat me with the same ambivalence shown to me by my grandchildren; but approached me with loving, open arms. The three of us went for a walk just after dark, in the almost full moonlight. We had fun and for the first time in years, I felt that I might still make a difference. A third great grandchild was born about a week ago (a boy). Are my great grandchildren my reward for having lived so long? Will my great grandchildren see that I crusaded, in my way, to save our planet and leave them with a hopeful future? Who knows how long I will still be here? Whether or not I am around for my next birthday, I will continue to fight (and write) for as long as I am breathing, to leave the world a better place for my precious grandchildren, for all children – and for all life.