Seeing the starry night skies over our bay in Baja is something that changes you for ever. How many hours have we been lying there on our recliners in the night and gazed at these stars? You can choose, you can let your thoughts float freely wherever they want and enjoy the ride before the backdrop of eternity. Or you can actually look at the stars: you can try to comprehend the dimensions, the perspective of scale, the immenseness of it all, making you insignificant, humble and small. Or, when you finally have the courage to let the thoughts drift away by themselves, unused, when you resist their allure, don’t pick them up, and expose your mind uncontaminated to all this, feeling how it is all slowly embracing you, how size and dimensions may not matter at all, how it’s not out there far away from you but how you are right in the middle of it, belonging to it. (More thoughts about Baja nights here)
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(More about Pelicans here.)
Oyster pickers: Small birds with a funny red beak. You almost always see them in pairs. They have an incredibly loud voice.
One of our fellow migrants: a little Hummingbird. Some of them live with us in the Pacific Northwest in summer and come also all the way down here to winter. It hovers for a second or two and is gone; before you comprehend it it’s gone. A beautiful flash of life. A moment, as fleeting as moments all are. When you call out: “look, a hummingbird…” it’s already gone before your sentence is complete. So look, pay attention without agenda, without trying to remember, without trying to understand, catch it as it is. Don’t see the concept, see the real thing, they are all just flashes.
This one kind of fell dead out of the sky. This morning after reflecting on eternity in a starry night before I found this poor little fellow. They live such a restless, high-speed life; they even die on the run, they end their life in full flight.
Klaus Jan. 28. 2012