A swimmer who has ventured too deeply
into the dark depths of the sea
must struggle upward toward the light
and a sustaining breath of air—
to survive, to know another day.
Depending on what we have been given,
how much we are allowed to know,
some of us struggle upward for more.
In our clarified moments we seek beauty.
It is an attempt to find meaning —
a higher purpose beyond mere survival.
Silent wind flutters
wings of pretty butterfly
on lovely flower.
FYI: Haiku is a Japanese poetry form of seventeen syllables, in three lines of five, seven, and five, traditionally evoking images of the natural world.
I stood on the peak amidst the expanse of the moonlit, starry night, with the resplendent glory of the Sierra Nevada, windswept and cold, lungs filling full with exquisitely pure air after the hard climb.
Weakened by the long survival trek, body seeking food, the soul freedom, suddenly I was at peace in the profound beauty of the night.
No window light or human voice or face, or road or sound of sufferings’ groan was near or real in this ineffable place of truth. How odd, I thought, that such a place—cathedral of grace—lives, exists while humanity struggles to grin in the cruel grip of its inescapable pain.
Come here, I thought, come here with me now – see what I see, feel what I feel, know what I know in this moment and place. Come in to the hallowed beauty of this night.
But the night said they must come in their own time, urged me to push on to Freedom Road, to food and water—to avoid the aggressors.
It gifted me and sent me on my way to learn what I may before my inevitable return home — to the beauty of the night.
Note: This was an experience I had as a twenty year old Air Force Pilot. I had just finished the two week “Starvation Trek” in the Sierra Nevada mountains that was the second phase of the Air Force Survival School. The third and final phase was the Escape and Evasion Exercise. Earlier that night, our crew of eleven was loaded into a truck and driven to an isolated location in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada range where we were dropped off in pairs. Each pair was given a small map and a compass. Our challenge was to negotiate about 25 miles of difficult terrain while locating four partisan (friendly) checkpoints and avoiding the Aggressors (the enemy). The objective was Freedom Road, located at Stead Air Force Base near Reno, Nevada. If we managed to evade the Aggressors and cross over Freedom Road, we would have completed survival school without any further requirements. If we were captured, we would likely endure some very aggressive interrogation and notoriously rough treatment in the “POW” Camp.
A Sierra Nevada Night takes place as I and my companion reached the peak of a third or fourth high ridge at about midnight. We had been weakened by the Starvation Trek so we were physically exhausted. In case you’re wondering, we successfully crossed Freedom Road the next day.
I saw a pregnant lady
smiling widely at a baby
that was not hers.
It was just a brief encounter,
a momentary vision amidst
the great panoply of time.
Though I had seen it all before
this gave me so much more.
It was a dazzling expression
of something quite sublime.
I walk around the lake to wake up my cells and strengthen my heart and all the other good things walking does. Yet the walk always gives more than that. Just to be inside the unconditioned air is a natural pleasure too often missing from my common day. To socialize with the sights and sounds of nature as both observer and participant is as perfect as it gets when allowed to simply happen.
I wonder if the geese and ducks and gulls walk and paddle and fly for their health? Of course, I think, mostly to accomplish their survival needs, like eating—and that’s for their health. But sometimes they seem to enjoy flying for the fun of it, the joy of it—and to practice. The gulls are especially good flyers—show-offs sometimes, impressive to me, an admiring (envious?) flyer of machines. I often wonder if any of them wonder about us.
It's winter. Bare-limbed trees (except the evergreens) display their singularly different, sometimes intricate silhouettes, their limb structures so clearly displayed against the still-lit quiet eventide sky, reveal their heritage—their family characteristics.
I am awed by the diversity and beauty of it all even in this small park. Then there is the ever-fascinating activity of people watching … and sometimes meeting. The park is a good place to visit.