The Marvelous Mysteries

It wasn’t a blood bath after all. No cause for complacency, but a welcome infusion of hope and determination.

And while the results were rolling in and the pundits were pontificating, I tuned it all out and wisely went walking with the intrepid ladies of the Santa Ynez Valley Women Hikers.

There were about ten of us, all a bit faded and weathered, broken and mended, but sturdy and persistent. I love these women. They are well-versed in patience as well as disappointment, smart enough to appreciate the good contained in an ordinary day, and keenly attuned to the wonders of being outdoors in a beautiful place like this.

We headed out into the rain-washed backcountry, in all its sparkling, muddy glory. There were fragments of conversation on topics from trivial to profound: the pros and cons of thong panties, the care of partners in decline, the needed adjustments to the course we had planned. We didn’t talk directly about politics or the elections, but we love this earth with all our hearts–and this, too, has become political.

At one point we pulled aside a tree and branches that had fallen across the road, blocking our path, and we felt capable and strong. We wended our way around muddy pools and climbed steep gravely grades and stood in wonder looking out at the panorama of mountains and sky. It never disappoints.

These lines from Mary Oliver express my feelings perfectly, and I spoke them out loud:

Let me keep company always with those who say

“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,

and bow their heads.

In town I saw a young mother sitting in a shaft of sunlight in a coffee shop with a little girl so like the one I used to have, and it was such a tender vignette. I ran into a former student, all grown up, and he recognized me. Back home, tiny black calves frolicked in the canyon, and a trio of deer dashed into the brush as I drove by, and there was a letter in the mailbox from my old friend Cyd, six pages of heartfelt rants and updates, loving and fierce as ever.

In the wee hours of morning., a rocket was launched from Vandenberg. I heard and felt it, then looked out our bedroom window and watched it flying towards the sea. It was still in sight when a shooting star appeared.

What we need is here.