Presence on the prairie, act II

How long has it been since you dragged yourself from your warm bed before daybreak, pulled on boots and hiked along a rocky ridge to a perch on top of your world, just to witness the Sun’s optimistic rise . . .

felt the curve of the Earth beneath your sit bones, sat quiet and still on the dirt, savored the evening’s perfect light . . .

stumbled over a mound of bunch grass, flushed a sparrow from its nest and investigated, just for the joy of laying eyes on the hand-crafted basket and two tawny bundles inside . . .

spent a week sleeping on the ground, in the company of coyotes singing to the moon, nestled in the cradle of your Mother’s arms?

What Pachamama knew all along

Suzanne Simard is professor of forest ecology at the University of British Columbia where she has studied the forests for the past 30 years. Her work reveals complex, symbiotic networks under our forests that mimic our own neural and social networks. Dispelling the idea that nature competes for survival, she discovered that trees use underground fungi networks to communicate and share resources. Not to be missed is her TED Talk urging a revolution in forest practices.

Listening to healing sirens from Mother Earth

I was the only aging suburbanite in the group of six urban dwellers, sitting on a pillow on the floor of the 2nd story, the woody smell of coffee infusing the space from the shop below. The rest were 20-somethings, engaged in banter with our teacher like they were old friends. I was the rookie in a collective who had come to study song and singing, how to lead others in song, and how to connect song to the Earth.

Following the call

I cannot resist a call on the wind from Camp Creek Canyon, urging me to bring my gear.

I squish along on curious boots, tripod balanced on my right shoulder, Nikon and extra lenses strapped in a pack on my back. The hot dusty smell I remember from my visit a year earlier is replaced with a damp perfume of penstemon and lupine, lush with unseasonable rain on this sacred ground once home to the Nez Pearce. Out here on the Zumwalt Prairie, where scientists count and plant and monitor, there are mysteries that cannot be explained.

Why coyote sings

We are created by the song of the Universe, we are created by sound--

words to a lovely Singing Alive song, and an alternative way to consider why coyote sings to the moon.

If coyote was born to sing to the Universe, 
a message about Prairie's reach

It's easy to value each yip and yap 
all background howls,
each bark and witchy screech.

Each voice of course tells the story beyond 
what constrains a science lens.

A canine-perfect cacophony of sorts 

so the Universe understands.

First verse over, it's time to pause

so coyote keeps quite still.

Dialogue with one's maker requires

a polite reciprocal trill.

It takes time to receive the messages, 

found in purposeful songs without words . . .

more time to receive spirit wisdom 
on frequencies meant to be heard.

A language for all

Instead of expecting others to speak their difficult languages tribes like the Paiute, Pawnee and Iroquois--our ancestors--created "rock art" using universal symbols to communicate with each other; the road signs or computer icons of today. These symbols expressed meaning but were not meant to be spoken. Using a few simple figures they were able to convey complicated concepts like the past and spiritual connection. 

Find out more about visitors that cross your path

The name “Nighthawk” is a bit of a misnomer because the bird is neither strictly nocturnal--it's active at both dawn and dusk—nor closely related to hawks. While this picture of a docile Nighthawk contrasts with the behavior it's known for, the image of this insect-eating, owl-like bird resting on the deck railing at dawn was easier to catch than its characteristic whooshing and booming at dark near the prairie floor.