Jonathan Livingston

Of all the people I owe a debt of gratitude, my high school cross-country coach is perhaps the greatest. Though I think I was a bit too young to grasp them at the time, I have kept the visionary concepts he introduced me to as a young runner with me all these years. At the time, I found them fascinating, but at bit "out there" at the same time. However, now with a bit more life experience, maturity and knowledge at hand they are being making more and more sense. Especially as I continue on this spiritual journey I started nine months ago.

Looking for some reading material to accompany my cross-country camping trip before I left Wisconsin, I came across my old copy of 'Jonathan Livingston Seagull.' I was 14 when Coach Conway first had us read this book -- chapter by chapter -- before practice each day. 20 years ago. The words are still the same, and the book is still incredibly inspiring, but the message is so very different now.

"We can lift ourselves out of ignorance,

we can find ourselves as creatures of excellence and intelligence and skill.

We can be free! We can learn to fly!"

-Richard Bach, Jonathan Livingston Seagull

It Makes a Difference For This One

'While wandering a deserted beach at dawn, stagnant in my work, I saw a man in the distance bending and throwing as he walked the endless stretch toward me. As he came near, I could see that he was throwing starfish, abandoned on the sand by the tide, back into the sea. When he was close enough I asked him why he was working so hard at this strange task. He said that the sun would dry the starfish and they would die. I said to him that I thought he was foolish. there were thousands of starfish on miles and miles of beach. One man alone could never make a difference. He smiled as he picked up the next starfish.



Hurling it far into the sea he said, "It makes a difference for this one."'
— Loren Eiseley

The Wise Old Pine Has Spoken

As I watched the sun rise, sending its first rays sparkling over the frost-covered reeds of the marsh this morning, meditating upon my (not-so) lone pine, the old conifer spoke to me. It told me I am just as out of place in this environment as it is. When it told me this, I was so overcome with emotion I was compelled to wrap my arms around it. And there I stood for the longest time, just hugging the tree, tears streaming down my face.

My lone pine may have roots deeply embedded in the land keeping it where it is, but I do not. Perhaps this part of my journey is not about exploring my old roots, but freeing myself from them.

Metamorphosis Revisited

Hard to believe that from a dried up old shell hanging in a landscape of moldy milkweed...


...a creature this delicate and beautiful emerged.


Fifteen days ago, it looked like this:


Same creature, different body. Or same body, different creature?



Zen thinking would say it is neither one, nor the other, but both at the same time. Or perhaps not. Perhaps it would just say I am putting too much thought into it. Or too little thought. Or that thoughts cannot be too little or too large, but are both at once.

I may be confused, but I doubt this little butterfly is. Its instincts are telling it it needs to be somewhere else and soon it will be on it way south. I wonder if it is terribly freeing to have your destination mapped out in your genes.

When you think about it that way, it is no coincidence destiny and destination have the same root word. Tomorrow, I will travel south too. West Virginia is the destination of the moment, but certainly not the destiny. Or maybe it is destiny of the moment, but not the destination? Or maybe I am just thinking too much again.