Natalie Goldberg--the writing life

Every time I pick up one of Natalie Goldberg’s books and read a page or two, I’m inspired. Mexican Hat--Las Vegas NWR, Las Vegas, NM

I had the pleasure of experiencing four days of study with Natalie Goldberg and Sean Murphy, along with ten other participants. In the whole of that time we devoted ourselves to quieting our minds; and we wrote, and we read aloud, and then we wrote some more.

I had already read three of Goldberg's books prior to this experience but there are more—eleven altogether. If you are a writer or if you are interested in discovering more about who you are, her books are a dream to read, short chapters, gritty, inspiring.

I opened Wild Mind, Living the Writer’s Life this morning and read: “Writing is the act of discovery. If I knew everything ahead of time, why bother writing?”

And that's exactly it. Not knowing is so key to writing and to life. If we knew how to do everything, why bother? So go all out and make mistakes. Try something new and unfamiliar. Discover who you are and what matters. And write. There’s a whole wide world out there to be discovered --both inside and out.

A Ruby-throated Hummingbird's Day

I guess if I needed any evidence of the speed and vigilance of this resident male ruby-throat it would be that I can’t get a clear image of him!
This becomes all the more frustrating when I've been able to capture satisfying images of some of the juvenile and female visitors that have managed to sneak a drink from the feeder.
But the male has no time to linger. He is ever vigilant, moving up and down, scanning between drinks.
Yesterday morning while he was peacefully preening high on his perch, another male challenged him. I caught this other-worldly image below as the intruder flashed him a second time before departing.
Our scrappy king never even left his perch.

Ruby-throated Tenacity--Part III

On Sunday--a moment of quiet... with time to preen...

and while I watched...

I wished for a longer lens.

But as I look at these images...I'm content again.

This was a moment of softness in a very hard, high speed world.

Ruby-throated Tenacity—Part II

In the past two days, even though I’ve had other pressing projects, I seem compelled to observe the male hummingbird in my yard as much as time allows. I sometimes think patience borders on stubbornness when it comes to trying to capture a photo of these little fire balls. I’ve certainly witnessed far more than I can show photographically.

A breeding male is hyper-alert and aggressive. And truthfully, though I posted Bob Sargent’s description of how the males deteriorate in appearance during breeding season (July 24 post), I had not expected to witness this happening so rapidly nor feel distressed by it.

Despite the poor image you can see breast injuries and the disarray of feathers.

I keep thinking that this male will begin his own migration soon, but just two days ago a courted female joined him at his perch.

I first saw her at the feeder before she settled on a branch near where he normally posts himself. I expected him to zoom in like a missile, but instead, he flew in and quietly perched above her.


Female watching for his arrival.

Male upper left, female lower right.

It wasn’t long before an intruder appeared and the peace of the moment was over. The male returned again to preen but the female did not return. This observation probably spanned a period of three minutes and I feel privileged to have witnessed this deeper glimpse into a hummingbird’s life.

The Blue Bug

My story about Rose Mountain would not be complete without introducing you to the blue bug. I am not a buggy person, but I did like this bug. He reminded me of a beloved and be-angeled cat in my past, not in appearance of course, but in the ways these bugs showed up. About the size of a June bug, but more like a lady bug in behavior, they came in shades of blue-gray to blue-green and seemed to like people. They frequently landed on shirts and crawled about, before leaving just as softly as they came. Once as I was writing, one crawled across my notebook, halting my pen. This is what reminded me of my cat, the way he nudged his way into my attention by unceremoniously sitting down in the middle of the page. The Rose mountain blue bug--another new acquaintance.

The Silence

Clearly the most profound experience of my stay at Rose Mountain was our teachers, what they taught us about writing (and about living). Both Natalie Goldberg and Sean Murphy are talented and powerful mentors. I am fortunate to have experienced their wisdom and that it lives on in my mind, my practice and in their books. But I have wondered what aspect of this experience made it so difficult to re-engage when I returned home, so much so, that it took a full two weeks before I could feel my feet firmly replanted in everyday life again. I have concluded it was the silence. The silence of the mountain, the silence we observed just after meeting each other--thirteen of us inclusive of teachers, the silence of meditation, of walking, of writing and of listening. There was nothing superficial, shallow or pretentious to occupy our minds. Everything around us was real and pure, the air we breathed through our nose, the earth squarely solid beneath our feet, the whisper of the wind in the pines. There was nothing in the way of our opening up.
Without everyday distractions and demands to hold you to the surface, as your pen moves across the paper, what bubbles up is what matters. And what matters comes from a deeper place. And when you go deep you heal and become open to who you are.
As we read what we had written aloud to each other, this bubbling up was honored with silence, reverent, affirming silence. No reassurances bombarded you. There were no attempts to repair your composure or make your voice go away. No criticism or ‘fix it’ responses, no rushing in to make you feel better. There was only listening and silence. And how does this feel? Uncertain at first. It’s unfamiliar. But what follows is a very settling and strengthened certainty that you have honored who you are. You have listened deeply and heard what you had to say and in the midst of that profound silence, you know that is all that really matters.

The challenge then becomes, how do you hold on to that when you return? How do you incorporate that into your everyday life despite all the surface clamoring? The answer is, you practice.

Ruby-throated Tenacity

I’m bringing my blog focus back from New Mexico to Tennessee for a day to post on the male ruby-throated hummingbird who has claimed my feeder as part of his territory. I finally got this photo of him yesterday morning --not an easy accomplishment and just enough to encourage me. As you know, if you've ever watched them, male hummingbirds on territory are virtual little furies. Alert and territorial, they are constantly watching for intruders and for females who may be attracted to their nectar supply. The reception is noticeably different for the two. When a male ventures near, he is hotly chased away. When a female visits the feeder, she is allowed to drink and when she departs, he follows close behind.
In his book, Ruby-throated Hummingbird, Robert Sargent describes the male on territory. “From the day they establish their territories…it becomes life in the fast lane for these little bullies. Almost immediately, their appearance starts to deteriorate. They do not feed properly, their weight starts to decline, and their once pristine feathers start to show the rigors of breeding season, becoming soiled as normal preening is neglected and abraded as the birds crash with abandon through the foliage of their territories."
If you look closely at the first photo, you will see missing feathers, loose tuffs of down and a scruffy rather than sleek, preened appearance—the rigors of pursuits. He begins his day in the pre-dawn light, emitting territorial chirps and paying several early visits to the feeder. I hope to have more photos soon and maybe a few of others passing through. Its mid-July. Early nesters from more northern states are beginning their migration now. I wonder how my tiny neighbor can be any more vigilant.

Steller’s Comedian

My first and only encounter with a Steller’s Jay was brief but gives me a chuckle even now. What a comedian. Not only did he announce his presence with boisterous vocals but he was busy at the same time, hopping about the mid-level pine limbs, never still, as though giving commentary on whatever he was or wasn’t finding there. Then poof, just as suddenly, he was gone.

A member of the corvid family, the jays, along with the crows and ravens, are considered to be the smartest of our birds. When I think of this one, I put together his acrobatics with those noisy vocals and that fluffy head dress he wears and I can't help but smile at this glimpse into his personality.