Calliope's Page

Walking in the fog on Ocean Beach, at first there is nothing. Just the usual slightly darker, slightly lighter variations in the sand ripples where the tide went out - background level oil from the churning Mother. Down the way in the parking lot there were orange cones and yellow lights, boxy vehicles and shadowy clumps of moon-suits. But out here on the sand the visibility shuts down and they are gone. Way, way out ahead each wave laps lower than the last, full ebb.

The kid in me has…

Three weeks out from the conference and still meditating on change. Being in San Rafael recedes, time passes, new experiences jostle for attention. The fragility of inspiration frightens me - something delicate and precious nurtured in that space cannot survive this onslaught of time.

Ah, but it can change. The seed can go into the dark soil, we can dive into the wintertime, and... And what? What? Pretty words but are they true? Where is the certainty that something will grow? What…

Pete Seeger on the radio telling a story.

"You see, it's like this. Imagine a see-saw, and on one end of it there's a basket half full of big rocks. And that end is down on the ground. On the other end, there's a basket a quarter full of sand, up in the air. People are standing around putting sand in that basket with teaspoons, and you say, 'Look, how are those few people with teaspoons ever going to fill that basket and tip that scale. The sand is leaking out just as fast as it's goin…

Wow, I'm here. The conference was only last week, but already it seems so long ago. I guess that's what happens when you go home and jump feet first into the year.

They say that in California we have three seasons: Wet, Wildflower, and Dry. Bioneers always comes on the very last days of Dry, delicious sweet slide into Wet. My prayers for those who burn. Satellite photos show smoke plumes far out to sea. But ash is in my nostrils - the time the fire came up toward the back forty, embers…