in a parking lot

Wonderful sights can happen anywhere -- even a grocery store parking lot.

In the few moments between errand one and errand two, I pulled into a parking space.

The afternoon sky was brilliant with sunshine -- accessorized with clouds that were themselves accessorized with shadow.

Against this shimmering canvas, a snow-white gull soared up and around, its feathers illumined except where tipped with black.

Grace itself, swooping above the shopping carts, the gull circled and circled, descending then ascending in repeated swirls of flight.

It was not possible to see its motivation. Was there some delicacy trapped on the macadam -- a trace of garbage enticing its repeated descents?

When it was time for me to move on, I drove past the spot I thought had drawn the bird … but saw nothing.

No one else had seemed to notice the avian dance.

Perhaps it was just for me.

Just a reminder that beauty is a component of all our days.

If we but look.

A Vision Shared.

When we were growing up, my brother (Bill McClure) and I often tried to kill each other. With less than two years difference in our ages, we were sibling rivals par excellence. We didn’t become friends until I went away to college but our friendship has continued to deepen over the decades as we follow our respective spiritual paths. These paths are parallel, not identical, and it’s illuminating to see them reflected in our lives and work. Over the years, I have come to acknowledge the divine feminine and the holiness of all creation. So has Bill.

When his minister, Rev. J. Todd Smiedendorf (called Todd) asked him to create a large painting with images of the divine feminine/Black Madonna and the divinity of nature/Green Man, Bill began reading and sketching and carving and, over the past year, created the painting that was presented to the Washington Park United Church of Christ on Sunday, Nov. 8.

Early in the service, a good friend, Louise West, gathered the kids around the painting to learn what each of them saw – there are lots of creatures and birds and flowers. One little boy thought the Green Man was scary.

Then the scary part – for Bill – when he and Todd talked about the painting and the process of its creation.

Next, the extraordinary. Three men carried the painting toward the simple cross on the south wall and hung it in its center.

Later the congregation processed forward to admire it.

There is a round worship table in the center of the congregation’s rounded seating area. On it, is a carving of the Tree of Life that Bill created in 2007. It is possible to view both his creations simultaneously.

It is not possible to express the pride and joy I felt to see his vision shared.

Magic Time

Time may be a construct… something humans conjured to provide the illusion of control over things but it can nonetheless be a profound experience.

Recently I wandered in and out of the past and present so rapidly that reality seemed more ephemeral than usual.

Imagine if you will seeing the child you brought in to the world 47 years ago, holding his two week old son – a son who looks remarkably like the child you brought in to the world when he was new – 47 years ago.

Then you get to hold him, the new one. You see his amazing eyes and nose and ears and even hair. He sort of smiles (you know it’s probably just digestive maneuverings but it still is magnificent).

And is it October 1968 or October 2015?

And does it matter? The old one and the new one cluster in the newly formed family.

You are integral and extraneous and it is all wonderful.

And magic.

Discarding Rules

In the prologue to my memoir, Tree Lines, I wrote: “I followed all the rules. Even rules that didn’t exist. My table manners were impeccable. I never interrupted, never contradicted authority. I waited my turn, I folded my hands. I did my homework and chores. I went to church, babysat, got summer jobs. I was so bland I practically disappeared."

I got over all of that… or most of that.

I also got over the ‘truths’ that were proclaimed by my parents and their white American middle-class culture. I now know that -- women, African Americans, Latinos, Muslims, homosexuals, transgender people, Asians, the homeless and indeed any non-white/non-middleclass humans are not inherently evil, inferior or dangerous.

There are other ‘rules’ that I now disregard:

"A couple should be married before engaging in sexual intercourse."  That was one of the first ones to go.

"Marriage is the only form of committed relationship." Baloney.

"Only married couples should have children." Really??? My son and his very significant other – who are deeply committed to each other -- just had the most beautiful little boy (my very first grandchild). And they are both deeply committed to taking care of the little guy and doing whatever it takes to prepare him for our very scary world.

 

And I couldn’t be prouder of them all.

Who knows what rules I will next discard? Stay tuned.

 

Barely Living Through Chemistry

Well that title isn't really accurate.

If I take all the pharmaceuticals and herbal supplements I am supposed to take, I do just fine.

Think of Hansel and Gretel a half a century or more later. Instead of bread crumbs, I could drop a trail of pills and capsules.

Recently, I actually counted them all.

Before breakfast, I take 2 digestive aids, 1 probiotic and 2 or 3 Vitamin D capsules.

After breakfast, I take 1 multivitamin (without iron because I am post-menopausal), 2 ‘macular protect’ capsules (really, more vitamins), 1 statin to fight cholesterol, 1 capsule (to protect my liver/kidney from the statin), and 1 MSM for joint flexibility.

At night, I take 2 cal/mag/zinc tablets (for joints I think), ½ of a blood pressure tablet, 1 allergy pill (which I probably wouldn’t need if I got rid of my cats … which I won’t), 2-3 capsules for night leg pain and, finally, 2-3 melatonin concoctions to help me sleep.

So every single day – between 18 ½ and 21 ½ remedies and aids.

At minimum it ensures that I drink more water.

And I am – mostly – grateful. Being able to function at my age is cool. It’s just a little time-consuming.

ELKED

The very same friend who told me that elk do not come out to play until 4:30 also told me that they stop playing after Oct. 10. How do they know the time and date? No matter. If she was right about 4:30, she was probably right about Oct. 10. How does she know these things?

So when Oct. 6 dawned gray and rainy and cold, I did not cancel plans to take my brother up to Rocky Mountain National Park to see the elk. I did tell him not to hurry up from Denver; that the show wouldn’t begin until tea time.

So he didn’t hurry. In fact he didn’t get to my place until noon. We stopped for coffee then I drove up into Estes Park where we had a leisurely lunch at a restaurant he remembered enjoying. We wandered around a store or two then drove into the park itself at almost precisely 4 p.m.

Using the Beaver Meadows entrance, it only made sense for me to drive first to Moraine Meadow. And there they were. First just two, in the distance – and looking the other way.

 

Then, as we drove out of the meadow-- a whole harem and a bull who seemed quite pleased with himself.

We got out of the car and walked as close as the rangers would let us. We could see the gradations of beige, the white rumps and black shiny noses. Even hear the crunching of golden grasses.

But that was not enough for me – I had missed this autumnal ritual far too often. I decided we needed to drive over to Sheep Lake meadow, so I headed in that direction.

En route, along the side of the road, a whole panorama of elk, majestic in a meadow framed by brilliant aspen and deep green pines. After several minutes of deep appreciation, we proceeded, stopping at a park commode before heading for the Sheep Lake overlook.

There, as darkness gathered, we looked out over a meadow crowded with elk. Their bugling echoed in the twilight as three does waded in the lake.

We listened to the witty banter of the ranger then, around 7 p.m., headed out for dinner then down the mountain.

It was a long and most excellent day. Finally, finally, finally, I was elked.

Tea Time for Major Mammals

When a good friend learned I was going up to Rocky Mountain National Park to see the elk, she expressed surprise when I said I would leave as early as possible.

“They only come out after 4:30!”

‘Really,’ I thought. I seemed to remember crowds of elk on prior visits, quite possibly well before 4:30 p.m. I just smiled thinking how wrong she was.

So I went up to the park. It was a free (no entrance fee) day so the parking lots were pretty full. I drove past Sheeps Lake meadow – no elk. I drove back into upper Beaver Meadow – no elk. [I did find a picnic table where I had a snack under golden aspen.] I drove past elk-less Moraine Park to Sprague Lake. During a leisurely stroll around the perimeter I saw rainbow trout in its clear waters and feeding ducks.

Taking a side path I absorbed the beauty of a stand of aspen.

Back in the car I retraced my route, finding a parking place by Sheeps Lake meadow. There was nothing going on … except people were setting up lawn chairs and getting out picnic baskets.

Okay. Something may happen here.

I settled in. Got out the newspaper section I had brought and sort of read while alert for action. Pretty soon I noticed people pointing, getting out cameras, moving toward the edge of the viewing area. I got out of the car. Seeing a great bull herding his harem across the meadow, I went back into the car to get my camera.

I  looked at the car clock. It was 4:30 p.m.