Monday, September 01, 2008

Labor Day Camping

I drove out to Florence to meet Steve and Louis after work on Thursday

Depot Bay, and a statute of one of its full-time residents









The first day



Walking toward the sea lion cave



However, the cave is empty while its live inhabitants sun themselves on the cliffs outside on this balmy summer day.



Only the dead remain in residence below the earth.



Fins that evolved from feet, which had evolved from fins





Driving the coast



Out on the lava flows and tide pools

















The more you stare, the more the sand, the sea, and the sky blur into the future






The next day...



...driving through the sea of sand, grass, and wind




A day spent crabbing in and around Florence







Ave imperator, morituri te salutant!







On Sunday

The ghost forest beach. Now the gleaming polished millennial roots are again reburied beneath the sand, far from the putrefying influence of oxygen.




This beach last October



March, after the violence of the winter storms



Today



I still get a sense of the infinite All while walking these beaches

501

This world is not Conclusion.
A Species stands beyond—
Invisible as Music—
But positive as sound—
It beckons, and it baffles—


~Emily Dickinson





Our earth suspires sand and stone as much as the sky does wind and rain, or the ocean its mists and tidal surges



Local activism and brewing since 1988



Newport



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More pinnipeds







So, now I’m back home unpacking clothes and cleaning gear. I am certainly faced with a plethora of quixotic choices such as whether to buy a set of crab rings on this paycheck or the next. Of somewhat more importance is taking the first step of moving beyond a comfortable but disappointing new job here in PDX towards something novel and uncertain.

Oh World, thou choosest not the better part

...
It is not wisdom to be only wise,
And on the inward vision close the eyes,
...
Our knowledge is a torch of smoky pine
That lights the pathway but one step ahead
Across a void of mystery and dread.
Bid, then, the tender light of faith to shine
By which alone the mortal heart is led
....

~Gorge Santayana

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