The Crow's Nest

I'm an analytical pearson at heart and I love to think things through; through what I'm not sure, but there it is. I am sitting up in my crow's nest up above everything and in the middle of the ocean, thinking. My mind wonders to my daughter. She is in her safe 'Brierpatch' with her friends.

Why am I in a 'Crow's nest'?

When my daughter asked me what I wanted to name my blog (she was setting it up for me). Without thinking, the name 'The crows nest" came off the top of my head. I'm not fond of crows and their attitudes, so that leaves me with the sea. I love sailing ships.

My son-in-law is in a nice comfortable warm wolf's den. I really think these three places says something about ourselves. I am friendly like a hound dog and I know no stranger, so how come I'm sitting up here in a cold, rocking crow's nest?

Maybe I spent my younger days on being too busy and nough enough time for thought. One time when the two kids and I were on a trip, we stopped for a hamburger. Then like I always do, I took off. My son hollered from the back seat that he coulden't keep track of his food and eat it too. That made me reflect. Where was I going in such a hurry? We had no schedule. So we pulled off and we ate without interuptions.

A-haa. It has suddenly occured to me that, in the crow's nest, I am not in charge. Maybe that is the answer to my question. I now have the time to reflect, and think of others and not chase every rainbo that comes along.

Here I am up a creak to find something to post. I have been quiet busy with Pow-Wows. Got to get them when they come. It took me several months to get the rhythm to their dances. To me it sounds like the same music and the same song each time but it isn't. I love to watch the male dances; such skill. Well the clock is ticking on, so I better get to typing. This time I want to share a poem about a small country church.

Token of Reverence

Standing alone in the dessert
was a humble old church,
used by a few dirt farmers.

Sagebrush and tumble weeds
crowded close to the walls
ready to reclaim that lonely spot.

Boards darkened by age and smoke
formed the shabby, thin walls,
giving scant shelter from the elements.

At the front of the room
was a large wooden stand,
which made due for a pulpit.

As its weary companion,
stood a sad, old piano
with few ivories left.

The remaining space was filled
with rows of apple boxes,
which took the place of pews.

The stove kept its lonely vigil
in the very back of the room,
keeping the few and faithful warm.

Whether humbly or grandly built,
the building makes no difference,
for worship is in the heart.

I love poems because they give a person a miniture srory. I write hiaku also. I call them the windows of life. A poet tries to put over an idea in only twenty seven sylables. Peek through these windows and see what you can see.

I drive into the past.
Settled among the green trees;
A forgotten town.

Winter is here.
The lone tree is bare and cold.
Wind will be a friend.

Swimming side by side
The great fish faced upstream.
Destiny is here.

From the mighty seed
Grows a small powerful tree.
It splits rocks apart.

As I sit in my crow's nest, I can see in all directions. The ocean is calm, so now I can see quite far. At the present time there are no ships in view, but that does not mean there is no action in or out of the ocean. All one has to do is be patient and walla!

Oh yes, I do see some flying fish. They may be small but they sure can fly. It has been reported they can fly for three hundred feet. Also, they fly in a group making it much easier to see.

Wow! Look at that; a pair of Bottlenose dolphins. They are making a gracfull leap, about fifteen feet, out of the water. My, what a splash.
Oh, there comes another dolphin. What rhythm! They are passing through having fun while searching for food. Now the ocean is quiet again and I turn to my own thoughts.

Over to the left there are some Humpback whales rhythmically
eruping out of the water and back again. As I see the rhythm of
the whales, I also feel the oceans movements as our ship rocks
back and forth. This gives me the feeling of being one with the whales. I can also hear the waves splash against the ship which
gives a beat to the rhythm. All nature has its own rhythm guided by the Lord's hands.

Sometimes we humans can get out of rhythm because we have bean given a free will and a mind of our own. We are not governed in the same manner as nature. In the crow's nest, in the middle of nature, I'm thankful for my quiet times so I may reflect on life. I also am thankful for a guiding light to steer the ship by.

I found a paper that my sister sent me about a year ago.
And strange as it seems, the subject matter was 'souls'.

The word "soul" as translated from Old testament Hebrew
means, "all of your thoughts,feelings, personality characteristics,
self, desires, and passions." The soul is who we are from the top
of our head to the bottom of our toes. (Don't get soul mixed up with spirit. We have a body, soul and spirit.)

"The brain is the soul's fragile dwelling place."
William Shakespeare

"The brain is the violin and the soul is the violinist. They both need
to work together in order to make beautiful music."
Father Charles Ara, Catholic Priest

I was facinated by the word 'sand'. So I collected all words that started with 'sand'. They seemed to write a poem.

A STORY ETCHED IN SAND

I know of two sand fleas,
Who were wed by a sand crab.
She now wears a sand stone.

Joe Sand Flea
Wanted to go to the sand bar.
He thought he would have a sand blast.

So, Joe Sand Flea
Went to the sand bank,
and withdrew several sand dollars.

Meanwhile........

Susie Sand Flea
Got into their sand buggy,
And drove over to the sand dune.

There Susie Sand Flea
Created a sand painting.
It was of a sand storm.

Consequently.......

Susie and Joe Sand Flea
Lived in a sandy world,
As told in the Sand paper.

The old dreamy Sand Man
With his mysterious sand bag
Lullabied the little sand fleas.

They all lived in a sand castle,
In the middle of a sand box.
And they lived happily ever after.

Have you fed your soul lately? We all know our bodies need food. Well, how about 'food for the soul'. Without 'soul food' our souls will drift off or go to sleep. I feed my soul by putting my mind on hold, then being one with my soul.

Since I live in the city, my options are limited for quiet times but I make do. Today I took a MAX to the airport. I clocked out the rest of the passengers and observed the actions of the clouds. There were quiet a few storms coming and going. The landscape going to the airport is quiet barren for it's right next to the Columbia River. That is why I watched the storms. I could see one over Vancouver. I could tell by the streaks from the bottom side of the clouds.

After I got in the airport, (it was a bee hive of it's own,) I sat by the window facing the airstrip. I watched the airplanes as they left. I let my thoughts float about imagining where the people were going and what circumstances took them away. While I was quiet and in limbo, my soul was filtering out disturbing aspects and seeking peace while I took time to smell the roses, as the saying goes.

Too much activity just becomes static to the soul. Slow down and listen to the wind whisper its blessings. If you are fortunate to hear the birds, by all means listen to them. Right now I hear my responsibilities calling. Be temperate in all that you do. In other words. don't overdo anything.