First Snow

In the Head the Power of Faith.

In the Heart the Might of Love.

In the full human being all-sustaining Hope.

FAIL!

Gothics. Pft. It POURED. It DELUGED. The trails were streams. The streams were brooks. The brooks were raging torrents. Channels were lost. Boulders submerged. The rivers became SLABS of water sliding down the mountainside.

I finally got to a stream I was afraid to cross alone. I just stood there... soaking wet... cold... discouraged... looking at the far shore full of longing and thoughts of drowning.

Remember the Wolf Jaws?

Remember success?

Those were different times.

Adirondack High Peakage 30/46

I got the Wolf Jaws and Armstrong. It was an icy, lonely climb. On my entire UPWARD climb I met only one hiker coming DOWN at 9:30 AM. He gave me the full Doom Report re: the weather on Upper Wolf Jaw.

It was indeed an IMPRESSIVE WEATHER COMBO: snow and hail... bruised sky... boot sucking mud and standing water on the trail... ice on the rock faces. I went on to Armstrong anyway.

As I stood on the summit of Armstong looking at Gothics, I distinctly felt that I might leave this earth if I were to go on. So... Gothics next weekend from the other direction.

Below: Gothics from Saddleback... the trail is visible to the left of the exposed face in the center foreground with the final section over the exposed face at the top... I think.

Had I gone on last weekend I would have come up the ridge from the back, over the two bumps and descended the exposed rock in the foreground.

Seams

I was sewing a seam one day --
Just this way --
Flashing four silver stitches there
With thread, like this, fine as a hair,
And then four here, and there again,
When
The seam I sewed dropped out of sight...
I saw the sea come rustling in,
Big and grey, windy and bright...
Then my thread that was as thin
As hair, tangled up like smoke
And broke.
I threaded up my needle, then --
Four here, four there, and here again.

Hazel Hall

This Strange Dream

I dreamed I saw you flying

high above a mountain

in a very blue sky.

You rose up on a plume of warmth

then wafted slowly towards the earth.

You landed in a forest by an ancient tree.

I dreamed you sat to wait for me.

I came as light

filtering through the leaves,

falling across your spirit.

Then I became a woman.

My hands became powerful

and I began to gather in the strength of things.

Then you became a woman.

You spread your arms

and crimson flowers spilled from your breasts.

We walked until we found a river.

The river flowed out from you,
to its end,

which was me.

We bathed often and were clean.

I became seed and sun and rain.

You became earth.

And when again we stood upright,

in bodies molded from your own clay,

the river was still there.

But it was swollen and dark

and it carried the corpses of things

we had drowned.

I felt the pain of that.

And I feel the pain even now,

awake so long

from this strange dream

of petals

and mystery

and love.

(February 1987, Wanakena, NY)

A tree first brought me the idea of bodhicitta but I didn't get that word until 9 years later

I once planted a liriodendron tulipifera

that my grandmother brought to me as a sapling.

The deer ate it every year and it got mowed several times

but it still grew tall and straight,

until it was too big to be hurt by those sorts of things anymore.

I want my heart to grow like that,
tall and straight,
so it will no longer close
when it is eaten by loneliness,
jealousy, anger, envy.

The liriodendron tulipifera has beautiful glossy leaves --

like large, beckoning hands.
It has flowers like great bowls of nectar --

an offering to the birds and butterflies and bees.

I want my heart to open like that,
as if with large beckoning hands

that can offer great bowls of nectar to the world.

What could this possibly mean?

Say this everyday to help yourself face the future without fear

I will enter this day like water.
Water is selfless.
It flows to places hidden and forgotten.
It renounces boundaries,
taking shape only when it is contained.
I will be like that --
Like water
Waiting to be contained.

Swan by the harbor

But now they drift on the still water, 
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake's edge or pool
Delight men's eyes when I awake some day 
To find they have flown away?

(Yeats, The Swans at Coole)

Say this everyday to help yourself remember that it is the task of the human being to bring love to the world

I arise today through the strength of Love

Love's wisdom to guide my heart
Love's eye to guide my seeing
Love's ear to guide my hearing
Love's word to guide my speaking

Love in the heart of everyone who thinks of me
Love in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me
Love in every eye that sees me
Love in every ear that hears me

I arise today through the strength of Love

Suzanne

Suzanne takes you down to her place by the river
You can hear the boats go by, you can spend the night beside her
And you know that she's half crazy but that's why you want to be there
And she feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China
And just when you mean to tell her that you have no love to give her
She gets you on her wavelength then she lets the river answer
That you've always been her lover

And you want to travel with her and you want to travel blind
And you know that she will trust you 'cause you've touched her perfect body
With your mind

And Jesus was a sailor when he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching from a lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain only drowning men could see him
He said all men shall be sailors then until the sea shall free them
But he himself was broken long before the sky would open
Forsaken almost human he sank beneath your wisdom like a stone

And you want to travel with him and you want to travel blind
And you think maybe you'll trust him 'cause he's touched your perfect body
With his mind

Suzanne takes your hand & she leads you to the river
She's wearing rags & feathers from Salvation Army counters
And the sun pours down like honey on our lady of the harbor
And she shows you where to look amid the garbage and the flowers
There are heros in the seaweed, there are children in the morning
They are leaning out for love & they'll lean that way forever
While Suzanne holds the mirror

And you want to travel with her and you want to travel blind
And you know that you will trust her 'cause she's touched your perfect body
With her mind

By Leonard Cohen

Absolutely Clear

Don't surrender your loneliness

So quickly.

Let it cut more deep.

Let it ferment and season you

As few human

Or even divine ingredients can.

Something missing in my heart tonight

Has made my eyes so soft,

My voice

So tender,

My need of God

Absolutely

Clear.

Hafiz

Heart

I think this song is saying the same thing that Hafiz says: Your love should never be offered to the mouth of a stranger, only to someone who has the valor and daring to cut pieces of their soul off with a knife then weave them into a blanket to protect you. And it is not eros, phileo or even caritas of which these verses speak.... but agape, spirit love, love of someone's karma.

Are you going to Scarborough fair
Parsley sage rosemary and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
For she once was a true love of mine

Tell her to make me a cambric shirt
Parsley sage rosemary and thyme
Without any seam or fine needlework
And then she'll be a true love of mine

Tell her to wash it in yonder dry well
Parsley sage rosemary and thyme
Where water n'er sprung nor drop of rain fell
And then she'll be a true love of mine
Tell her to dry it on yonder bare thorn
Parsley sage rosemary and thyme
Which never bore blossom since Adam was born
And then she'll be a true love of mine

Oh will you find me an acre of land
Parsley sage rosemary and thymeBetween the sea foam and the salt sea sand
Or never be a true love of mine

Will you plow it with a ram's horn
Parsley sage rosemary and thyme
And sow it all over with one peppercorn
Or never be a true love of mine

Will you reap it with a sickle of leather
Parsely sage rosemary and thyme
And tie it all up with a peacock's feather
And then you'll be a true love of mine

And when you have done and finished your work
Parsley sage rosemary and thyme
Then come to me for your cambric shirt
And you shall be a true love of mine

Too soon to know

Is there a NEW favorite bait shop?

Who Could NOT Love This Boy?

Doesn't everyone have a favorite bait shop?

This is my favorite bait shop.

The word BAIT is written with reflectors. When I drive to the Adirondacks in the winter, it is dark by the time I reach the bait shop, and the word BAIT sparkles in my headlights.

It won't be sparkling again anytime soon.

Definitely talking

yes, but what do they say?

I am pretty sure that the clouds are talking. Not to me, mind you. Just... talking.

The lambs are dead by now, I am quite sure

I was earnestly searching for lambs in March of 2009.

I found them not.

Marcy and Skylight

What Marcy looks like on a nice day.

What Marcy looked like the day I was there.
Skylight looked the same,
only darker, with hail, and no cairn.

So the next morning I ran up Phelps before backpacking out,
just to get a view.
This is Colden (left) and Algonquin (right) from Phelps.

Kamikaze Paparazzi

WARNING!!

Mothers of the World!

You may be subject to Paparazzi Attack at moments of extreme relaxation!

I post this video not to expose my pain but to demonstrate the extreme dangers of co-existing with teens.

Protect yourselves! Remain alert!

ding! 25

Big Slide was sweet, a lot of steep bare rock to scramble up.

The view from Big Slide: Gothics and The Range.
 How do you get over THERE?

Colden, finally

I finally got Colden. It would have been easier two months ago. There was rain, rotten snow and mud... but no black flies, yet. It was an intense, wet, foggy, cold trip. It made me really happy.

And this one advanced my standing with the Adirondack 46ers... http://www.adk46r.org/

...I am now ONE peak past the halfway point :D

Big Slide, next, I think.

The Mouth of a Stranger

Your love

Should never be offered to the mouth of a

Stranger,

Only to someone

Who has the valor and daring

To cut pieces of their soul off with a knife

Then weave them into a blanket

To protect you.

Hafiz (c. 1320-1389, Persia)

Translated by Daniel Ladinsky

from The Gift

waiting no more

The first hot day came

and it changed

everything.

It changed everything inside of me

and it changed everything outside.

The bloodroot bloomed,

and the colt's foot,

and the lazy, sensuous desire

to take off my jewelry

and stretch out on the forest moss

bloomed.

Still waiting

 Winter

Spring

Dog Holler

I lived down in Dog Holler most 'a 15 years. I miss it now, like I'd miss my hand, if'n somebody cut off my hand. Like I'd miss my foot, somebody cut off my foot.

I close my eyes, I still see the moon comin' up over Dog Holler Mountain. All big and white and beamin' down love juice all over them hills and trees. All over me. It stuck to me, that love juice. Ain't nothin' gonna wash it off now.

Biggest question I get asked up here, "Do you like livin' in Vermont?" Well, I like livin'. So, sure I like livin' in Vermont. But there ain't no redbud here. Ain't no dogwood. Ain't no sarviceberry. Ain't hardly no spring. Spring up here test your faith. That's resurrection, I s'pose. Can be a stickin' point for some folks. Me? I don't care whether it come out a seed, an egg, a womb or Christ's tomb. It's all the birth 'a love in the world. Up here, you just gotta wait longer 'n look harder. You remember I told you that: sometimes you gotta wait longer 'n look harder.

You can't hardly forget spring in Dog Holler, even you been through it but only once. Flowers everywhere. Locust tree stink up the air in the spring, all them flowers hangin' down. You ever seen a honey locust tree? Big thorns growin' all up the trunk. Oddest lookin' thing. If God had made the Tree 'a Knowledge a honey locust tree, ain't none of us be wearin' any clothes right now. I think God wanted Eve to eat that apple. Been easy enough get her to stop.

Anyway, I love all them trees down there. Shagbark hickory. Black walnut. Butternut. Horse chestnut. White oak. Red oak. Pin oak. My heart still want oak. Hawthorn, cedar, juniper. Virgin hemlock. You got the patience to walk to 'em, them trees'll show you some power. Copper beech, sycamore. Liriodendron tulipifera. Now she's a beauty, ain't no thorns on her. Roll around right nice in your mouth, don't it? Liriodendron tulipifera. I was in love with a whole grove 'a yellow poplar over on Dog Holler Mountain. I watched that patch 'a mountain turn yellow every fall.

And in the summer, chicory grow so thick, sit on my porch and watch the hay pasture turn hazy blue. First lark I ever saw looked right up at me outta that hazy blue. This minute, I can't think 'a nothin' more beautiful 'n that lark. 'Less maybe it's the mockin' bird singin' at night. Prettier 'n a silver flute, that is. Beauty drippin' outta that bird, right into me.

And it weren't just the trees and the birds, neither. Was the people, too. 'Cause I showed up 'bout as queer as a 3 dollar bill. People just let me be who I was and let me become whatever I was gonna become.
 
I remember the first time I drove up Dog Holler Road. First mile all in the woods. Then, bustin' outta the trees, this scene open up before me like a song outta my heart. Mountains all around, pastures full 'a thick green grass, dogwood in bloom, big white house with porch all around it. 

Like God was settin' a trap for me. He was. Settin' a trap. And I was so happy gettin' caught in it. Shoot, I like livin'. I wonder what trap God is settin' for me now? I guess, I wanna know, I'm jus' gonna have to wait longer 'n look harder. You remember I told you that.

Spring in Vermont

This here's a picture of spring in Vermont.

I am sure it is spring because, yesterday, I was caught out at Morning Sing for not having any spring songs ready. I was told, "But, Ms. Sanglier, this is spring in Vermont."

So today I decided to document this remarkable statement with photographic evidence. To be fair, as I took the above photo, there were robins hopping about near me and I heard the singing of red-winged blackbirds. I also noticed that the willow trees were showing a slightly enhanced shade of yellowish ochre, which can only mean one thing: it is, indeed, spring in Vermont.

And this is spring in Clover Hollow, same time of year... early April... same kind of weather... snow. But look across the road... the garden is plowed. And the redbud and wedding bush are in bloom. Now THAT is spring!

Your Beautiful Parched, Holy Mouth

A poet is someone

Who can pour light into a spoon,

Then raise it

To nourish

Your beautiful parched, holy mouth.

Hafiz (14th century, Persia) from I Heard God Laughing

Winter Peakage

  Wright Peak

I climbed Wright with my son on a perfect day in February. There was not a breath of wind. I set out my map on the peak and it stayed where I put it.

Colden is to the right.

Marcy in the middle distance.

Algonquin Peak

I climbed Algonquin alone a couple weeks after Wright. Tiny Mount Ascutney in Vermont was a harder hike because I had to break trail through ridge after ridge of hip deep snow with a bitter wind cutting down from the peak. Still, Algonquin is the one I feel like crowing about because of its wild and boar-like reputation.

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This is Colden.

I think I should hike it next.

Avalanche Lake

Past Marcy Dam

 Through Avalanche Pass

 









To Avalanche Lake

The harp partially revealed

Gathering Forces

While I manifest a video recording device (so that I may better showcase my utter lack of talent) I amuse myself by contemplating what it takes to perform: ego forces, soul forces, life forces, and vodka forces.

Note: Please be advised that Le Sanglier has been working on soul/spiritual development for many years. The appearance of the word many in front of the word years indicates that her life forces, due to natural aging processes, may have fallen below the threshold required for performing. Perhaps she should have been working on her technique all those years and left her ego and soul to their own devices. There is no question that she ought to have let her ardor for playing Chopin on the piano cool, particularly in the light of his continued indifference toward her. She can recommend the vodka, though. It is excellent.

The Bore's Den

It is here that Le Sanglier sits, brewing fire in her cauldron and feeling the seasons ferment around her. Islands arise in the briny sea of thought. Volcanoes erupt. Flames spit and surge. Beyond the fire and the flame lie frozen wastes of ice and fog. And bobbing along, in a tiny ship of heart, goes she.
 

The wildboar inside

What's all this about wildboars? In what woods lives this wildboar? Why does this wildboar seek to distract itself by posing as a sexy French version of its pedestrian English self? Le Sanglier will tell you now...

I was born with a wild and gullible heart. Being wild I sought danger. Being gullible I was afraid.

Or... am I actually the Wild Bore? Oh. I have to think about that.