The Day The Pelicans Left Part I

We drove deeper into the fog and a giant power plant ahead appeared out of nowhere looking as if it were floating in a cloud of its own making.   The white steam which poured from the smokestack billowed up and then around the structure seeming to hold it suspension in the sky.  I wanted to get a picture and asked my partner to take a side road off the highway.   From this angle the structure completely disappeared; I would have to keep the eerie image in my memory and it is in indelibly stamped there.  

We continued on our journey to Lewis and Clark State Park in Northwestern Missouri without photographic evidence of the floating power factory.  I call it “Heaven” instead of using the State’s official name.  The fog grew thicker as we drove and took on a brownish tone; it was as if we were driving in the steam of hot chocolate. We slowed as oncoming cars floated at us out of the mire. Thank goodness for our trusty Garmin named  “Auntie Och” or we may have missed our turn on the way to Oz.

As we drove into the park, visibility was nearly zero but there was no fear in us from flying blind; they’re had not been all along.  It was as if we were passing into a parallel space in time and we were both aware that something magical was to happen once we had crossed over.

We had been to this park just the week before and had fallen in love with the place: we had picnicked with hot dogs and Chardonnay in plastic cups.  On our first arrival, a cloud of American White Pelicans greeted us.  Neither of us had seen the creatures this closely before and we were awestruck at the sight.  We inched our vehicle forward as if the Pontiac Vibe could tiptoe.  I hurriedly switched my camera lens from wide angle to zoom and, as stealthily as I could, crept out the side of the car to snap as many pictures as I could for I knew the throng of birds would start to move away at the sight of us.

American White Pelicans

The birds were gathered around one of three percolators that were in the center of the oxbow lake which I assume were there to oxygenate the water.  It seemed the giant, white fowl  were catching fish that had been caught up in the waves of bubbles as they made their way to the surface: easy pickings.  The birds are beautiful: long, pale yellow snouts way too large the the black and white bodies.  Their eyes appeared like small black beads that must be useless but it appeared the Pelicans could see both above and below water quite keenly.  They moved slowly away from us as they became more concerned with our presence.  They didn’t waste the energy it must take to get their large bodies airborne but paddled slowly away in groups of three to five to a more quiet destination across the lake.

The small lake is surrounded by a village: “Lewis and Clark Village”.  I could not understand why the birds would feel more comfortable around human structures...well at least until the second half of the story.

That first visit to Lewis and Clark State Park was like a glorious and magical trip to heaven.  The crystal blue sky was filled with wispy clouds all day.  Many appeared like Angel wings, mirroring the wings of the Pelicans as they flew from one side of the lake to the other.  

I caught one fish (fishing is a way to stand around in a park without appearing like some type of a weirdo), a mystical and ancient fish at that; one which I could not identify until sending the picture off to the Ombudsman at the Missouri Department of Conservation.  It was a Shortnose Gar, a species which has been around since the Cretaceous period and rarely caught on pole and line as it is classified as a “lie-in-wait” predator.  The percolators ran all day filling the air with the smell of fish, an odor of clean, fresh fish not dead, rotten fish.  I only caught the one fish but he was a miracle in my mind.  I released him of course to go about his fifty million year old habits.

 
I left with a Lewis and Clark State Park with a sinking feeling in my heart; I had never felt this kind of love for a place before.  Perhaps I can now relate to how Thoreau felt about Walden.   I couldn’t go to sleep that night because of the beautiful images playing over and over in my mind.  I wanted to experience the over and over again; tears welled up in my eyes as they quite often do now when I think of the place.

There was no plan in place at the time to return to Lewis and Clark State Park a week later.  The plan just fell into place by accident over the coming week.  I never imagined that a second visit could be even more magical

Catching an Ancient Fish, The Seahorse Rises Again

We took a trip to a place like heaven and besides a huge flock of pelicans, there was an ancient species of fish lurking in the deep there.  I never thought I would see a fish like this alive, much less catch one.  In a way, the fish reminded me of the seahorse which manifested from my dream into reality.  It's long snout seemed much like that of a seahorse and it is actually from the same Phylum: Chordata, and Class: Actinopterygii.

Please see the Seahorse post.

The place we visited, Lewis and Clark State Park in Missouri, was like a small piece of heaven: the sky crystal blue with wisps of white clouds resembling Angel wings, serene, still and quiet.  I can't wait to return. The place was like a meditation.

There were plenty of campers there but none ventured outside of their RVs.  I suppose campers stay in their luxurious vehicles and watch the latest, new release films in Dolby surround sound, texting on their phones and play games on their little, hand-held devices.

The ancient fish turned out to be a gar: fossils of this species are know from the late Creataceous period onwards.

I was transformed by this beautiful place with hyper-awareness.  I became infected by it peace and beauty.

Please don't take this as a recommendation to visit Lewis and Clark State Park in Missouri.  We want to keep the place to ourselves!

Into The Deep

Yesterday, I had one of the deepest meditations I have had in many months.  It took place while sitting outside in a hard metal chair in front of a Starbuck's cafe after having finished half of a double shot of espresso. An oddly cool, August breeze blew; it helped to caress me into a deep trance.  I could sense autumn in the air though it may be far off. The smell of dying leaves from some far off place, the tinge of the whiff of snow from a distant mountaintop, and the reassuring smell of a drop of rain were all mixing together to form a trance inducing potion, a few deep breaths and I was under.

I felt as if I were sensing every autumn in the history of time.  I felt a sense of timelessness (we are timeless awareness) that I have felt only a few times during meditation int the past.  This sense of timelessness was always associated with a smell.  Oddly, as a former epileptic, the onset of my seizures was always accompanied by the onset of an odor.

Words cannot describe the sense of timelessness; one must experience it for themselves.  I always note the time before I begin a meditation.  Often, my sense of linear time which, of course is not real, is distorted when I come out of the deep.  In this particular case I was only under for six minutes yet I felt I had explored the beginning of time to the present.  The sense of calm I felt afterwards brought a smile to my face.

I finished my espresso and left unceremoniously.

Transformation continued...

The one thing I gleaned from my readings today was one must be crucified with a smile on your face.  I will smile from ear to ear as I face my oppressors today.  As I have tried to defend myself at work, my managers have more aggressively persecuted me.

In the meantime, I have a resume in the hands of a good woman who will help me to find a new job.  I hold that in faith.

Perhaps, my managers will attack with more zeal.   I'm sure they will not be happy to see that they have not shaken me.  They will see a smile on my face and hear me laugh.

I must surrender to my transformation and fully bask in its glory and potential.  New is coming and new is good.