Jane Faulkner

Crying Geese

Pretty Soon These Canada Geese Will Fly South (flickr)

I had never heard sounds quite like these before. I drag myself out of bed, in a house on the Washington Coast--just across the street from the ocean.  Waves of sound, over and over.  Not the ocean, for those waves take me into a dream state. These are waves of crying geese.  They sound  grief stricken, alerting all ears to some deadly warning. Although a deep memory in the recess of my brain knows that they are flying south, in my sleep stupored state I feel sure that a tsunami must be just off shore, or an earthquake on its way.  Funny what you learn about yourself when all alone encountering nature's ancient call. Haunting and by now reassuring, like the waves of pain during labor, I feel somehow honored and reverant. As I write this I remember this morning's walk on the beach, watching kite ribbons of geese fly across the hazy sun, in constant choreography.  Perhaps their haunting cries are reserved for the dark, moonless skies.  I will be flying with them as sleep is unlikely.  I am grateful, for this is a sold-out show.

WASSA In Hawaii

 

  I just returned from a week of African Dance with WASSA Dance on the Big Island of Hawaii. We danced at Kalani Oceanside Retreat Center on the southeast side, close to the volcano. We drove down the road for a short walk to the viewpoint where we saw the lava flowing, steaming and sparking at night.

When I arrived on the island and before I left, I stayed near the City of Refuge--the most sacred spot on the island.  This photo gives a glimpse of the spot, known as Pu'uhonau o Honauanau.  Fabulous snorkeling, it is an exquisite place where the lava juts out into the water, containing small pools of water that offer the sea turtles places to nest and feed. My last day there, I ventured out to the edge of the lava shelf early in the morning. I had asked the whales to come during my trip, and had always just missed them.    As I sat there, I heard a low sound in the bay to my right.  I looked up and there were two humpback whales, a mother and her calf.  They swam over to the water just in front of me (30 to 50 feet from me) and played for hours, flapping their white tales, blowing water, flipping upside down and in circles, and carving the sea with their large curved bodies. In addition to their low sounds, they made the most beautiful singing sound.  I sang back, uttering "Mahalo," (thankyou) over and over.

This was a perfect ending to a week of daily dancing, communing and relaxing at Kalani. As Lara McIntosh (Wassa) wove her magic each day to the beat of inspiring world music, we followed in a state of kinesthetic bliss.  The floor became sand under our feet as we felt each step move through our feet and up into our bodies.  Our bellys became sea stars and jellyfish, our pelvises, bowls.  Lara's colorful and imaginative images connected us to our bodies in new and profound ways.  The music connected us to each other and the luscious, colorful environment.
 Now I understand why her students come back year after year. This is an experience that lives in each of us, that we bring back, wrapped in the spirit of Aloha. There is a law on the books of Hawaii, defining Aloha.  In part, it states, "The Aloha Spirit is the coordination of mind and heart within each person. It brings each person to the Self. Each person must think and emote good feelings to others. In the contemplation and presence of the life force, Aloha, the following unuhi laulâ loa (free translation) may be used:

• Akahai, meaning kindness to be expressed with tenderness;
• Lôkahi, meaning unity, to be expressed with harmony;
• `Olu`olu, meaning agreeable, to be expressed with pleasantness;
• Ha`aha`a, meaning humility, to be expressed with modesty;
• Ahonui, meaning patience, to be expressed with perseverance."

Catching A Wave

Having just returned from Sayulita, Mexico, I was inspired by the surfers who dot the ocean waves there. Surfing is different from many sports because the waves are moving targets.  Seems like a great metaphor for life and work!

So how do they "catch a wave?"  The expression itself is apt--it describes moving with the energy of the wave, perfectly timed, and responding as you move to the water, the wind, the tide.

An art form, yet there are certain skills that I observed that might be useful in any venture. 

The surfers become familiar with the environment, sensitized to how the waves are moving, the size and shape of the waves, the wind, the other surfers.  This requires use of all of their senses and patient, persistent observation and awareness.  Second, they learn from experience how to "join" the wave--move into its flow so they are riding the surf.  Risk taking is key here-practicing over and over until the "feel" of moving with the wave is embodied.  Quickly, the surfers learn that resistance gets you a mouthful of salty water.  Timing is everything-if you are not in the moment and willing to act, you will miss the opportunity.  And of course, my favorite--a surfer must be centered and connected to his/her core to stay on the board and to stand up and balance.  Intention and constantly adjusting movement seem to be the key to a long ride along the crest of a wave.   When it happens, it is a thing of beauty....

Any surfers out there who can give us some tips?

All the Gold I Ever Wanted

Walking through the Washington Park Arboretum this past weekend was like filling my palette with all of my favorite colors.  People were showering themselves with golden and crimson leaves for photos.  Young children were piling the leaves high and hurling their bodies onto the soft mounds. The brilliant colored leaves against the deep blue sky stopped walkers in their tracks. There was joy and appreciation in the air. I could feel the vitality that comes from being stirred at my creative core.  While we looked in awe at a tall golden tree, a friend recited a line from the following poem—“Suddenly all the gold I ever wanted let loose and fell on me.”

In these tough economic times, what is the gold that really matters?
To me, it was the golden glow in the faces of the people who were touched so deeply by the beauty that is always available to us in our natural surroundings.  Next time you feel frustrated by economic challenges, imagine those golden leaves falling freely, spinning and dancing through the air. 

 

Gold
Suddenly all the gold I ever wanted
Let loose and fell on me. A storm of gold
Starting with rain a quick sun catches falling
And in the rain (fall within fall) a whirl
Of yellow leaves, glitter of paper nuggets.

And there were puddles the sun was winking at
And fountains saucy with goldfish, fantails, sunfish,
And trout slipping in streams it would be insult
To call gold and, trailing their incandescent
Fingers, meteors and a swimming moon.

Flowers of course.  Chrysanthemums and clouds
Of twisted cool witch-hazel and marigolds,
Late dandelions and all the goldenrods.
And bees all pollen and honey, wasps gold-banded
And hornets dangling their legs, cruising the sun.

The luminous birds, goldfinches and orioles,
Were gone or going, leaving some of their gold
Behind in near-gold, off-gold, ultra-golden
Beeches, birches, maples, apples.  And under
The appletrees the lost, the long-lost names.

Pumpkins and squashes heaped in a cold-gold sunset—
Oh I was crushed like Croesus, Midas-smothered
And I died in a maple-fall a boy was raking
Nightward to burst all bonfire-gold together—
And leave at last in a thin blue prayer of smoke.

Come Out Into the Sun: Poems New and Selected by Robert Francis