Spending this evening going through some old slides from travel back in the late ‘80s and ‘90s. Emphasis on some. I have a lot of slides.
I just completed a yoga routine on Apple Fitness+ set to the music of ABBA. ABBA’s music was always present when I was growing up and I feel a wonderful sense of joy in what the four musicians offered. The routine was just the right uplifting practice for this early Monday afternoon.
July 2022 newsletter letter
Monday, August 1, 2022
July 2022 Hello Friend, Sharing reflections July has been an unseasonably wet month in the part of Maui where I live. Parts of the island have been struggling with water shortages, while my family’s property is looking green and healthy. For that I am grateful, and at the same time I sense the wet weather ending and the drier weather of summer approaching. Earlier this month I was on a Zoom call with a charity in the UK of which I am a Board member.
English scientist James Lovelock died this week on his 103rd birthday. A bit of a maverick, he was looked on with some scorn by the scientific community when he developed the Gaia hypothesis in the 1960’s and ’70’s, along side Lynn Margulis, which sees the Earth as a self-regulating system. Like all systems, when it is pushed beyond its ability to self-regulate, the system starts to fail. Climate change is one result.
The acceptance of the hypothesis I don’t believe was helped by his choosing the name Gaia which was embraced by the hippy and ecology movement at the time, but not so much others. Time has been more generous to both Gaia and James Lovelock.
I read his book Gaia: A New Look at Life on Earth a couple of times, the second while studying for my Masters in Ecospychology. I feel that Gaia embraced is not a theory that one just understands, but a theory that one lives and experiences while walking through life.
The lights over the lanai cast sufficient light for me to read while rendering the world beyond in total darkness. I watch the creatures of the night emerge, attracted by the light. Aircraft fly over bringing visitors to the island and residents home. Crickets whistle, the wind blows, distant traffic chase by.
I return to my book surrounded by a world that at one time I am familiar with, and at the same time a stranger to.
Sometimes Faith is all that I have. The practice might appear on first read, on first hearing it to not be of any benefit and rather questionably lead anywhere. “How can that work?”
At such times I am asking myself to build on the faith that has come on the back of past lessons learnt from sources that I have come to trust. That is what faith sits on the back of, trust. Learnt, experiential trust. My experience.
With that faith I can then step out and at least try a new lesson, even if doubt or fear might be my predominant feelings. I see it like a parent helping a child learn a new skill. The child might be scared to give it a go, but trusting the parent they try, and with time the uncertainty and fear is transformed into a lived experience.
Sunrise through the window this morning.
Tired, but in a good way, having just finished trimming the hedge which I started last weekend. Showered, dinner next and then a quiet evening.
Interesting clouds floating over the house.
Our house looks out onto the Pacific Ocean, in the far distance where water meets the horizon. I have been looking out onto that view ever since we moved here, just being grateful for the beauty of it and the perspective it offers when my mind is foggy.
Then one day a friend visited and observed that looking out to the horizon, it was possible to see the curvature of the Earth. I took a look and sure enough the ocean curves down to the right. Once seen, I have never been able to un-see it. At times I find the view a little unsettling. The water of the ocean 'staying in place' as it curves down and out of sight.
I have my voting papers for upcoming elections here in Hawaii. The first time that I will be able to vote in the US since becoming a US citizen.
I have just made use of my step-daughter’s infrared sauna to help rest some weary muscles. Yesterday was an extremely exhausting day, while at the same time also being very satisfying, as I trimmed and leveling off our hedge under a hot sun.
Bronx’s view of the neighbourhood.
Seeking shade.
Peninsular Notebooks, Porto
Thursday, July 21, 2022
My analogue journaling and tracking of todo lists happens in Field Notes notebooks. Over the last couple of years I have grown to love the convenience (for me) of the size of Field Notes and occasionally will buy notebooks of a similar size but made by a different brand. While my wife and I were in Portugal earlier this year, we visited a beautiful stationary and graphics store in the city of Porto, Peninsular.
The Great Lakes, summer 2022 edition of Field Notes has arrived and looks beautiful.
What I am reflecting on today,
So I’m here to tell you that the path to peace is right here, when you want to get away.
~ Pema Chödron, Practicing Peace In Times of War
Tropical Storm Darby is having a lot to say for itself today. Rain, rain and rain, though interestingly the wind has died down from this last week. 🌧
On Saying Goodbye
Friday, July 15, 2022
Unintentionally this post is following close on the heals of my last post. I came across the article to which I refer in that post while writing this one. I still have an image in my mind of when I left my house in South Wales about sixteen years ago. All personal belongings gone, just an empty shell, echoing loudly with that sound only an empty house has that is now just full of memories.
I came across this article in The Guardian from 2002 about the eco-house that I built in South Wales. I found a PDF version on my computer and then went looking online, and it is still there.