September Sighting

September 9, 2009

Fort Casey

Jeremy and I took the Whidbey Island ferry out to Fort Casey on Saturday. In the late afternoon, after we had explored the woods and the fort’s echoey passageways, we found a lookout spot with a sweeping view of the ocean. The edge of the island curved out to the north, where the banks steepened into pale bluffs. The sun was directly ahead of us in the western sky, and we had to shield our eyes from its glare and the brilliant reflection it cast on the water. We sat and watched the waves scrape the pebbles on the shore twenty feet below us.

“It would be amazing to see a whale,” I thought. I started praying silently that we would see one … something I don’t think I’ve ever prayed for before.

A cruise ship sailed by. We saw water birds diving amidst a forest of kelp, but no whales.

Half an hour passed, and we decided to return to the field behind the fort, where we could throw the Frisbee around a bit before heading home. The trail we chose to take us back led us through the woods briefly, then opened on a clearing where we could see the ocean again.

I paused to look one more time. Right in the center of my panoramic view, there was a splash as a whale crashed back into the water, spraying water from its blowhole.

“Honey, did you see that?” I shouted, even though Jeremy was right next to me.

He had not seen it. The whale surfaced a couple more times before he found it. When he did, he was just as excited as I was.

“Get the camera out!” Jeremy said. It turned out neither of us had the camera. It had slipped from my coat pocket while we were sitting, watching the waves. Looking down, I could see where we had been sitting and could just make out the camera case lying on the ground. We ran down the path, keeping our eyes on the ocean.

Back in our original lookout spot, we spent the next twenty minutes watching for whales. Every few minutes, a whale would surface in a different place. The camera turned out to be useless … the whales were too far away and too unpredictable to capture.

When at last we headed back, the sun had sunk closer to the horizon, turning the sky a deeper shade of blue, the grass and trees a richer shade of gold. With Jeremy, I walked across the field toward the fort, savoring the ripeness of September, knowing I had received a rare and beautiful gift and been blessed to share it with someone I loved.

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I know I’m not a hopeless case

August 22, 2009

My 5-year-old friend Caleb loves the song “Beautiful Day” by U2. He goes around singing like a rock star, “It’s a beautiful day – skafuldjifeelak! It’s a beautiful day!”  

The first time I heard him, I laughed, “I’m never quite sure what Bono is saying right there either.”  

Caleb gave me a patronizing look and replied slowly and clearly, “He says, ‘It’s a beautiful day, ska-ful-dji-fee-lak.’”  

I can’t argue with you, Caleb.

Later I went home and looked in the CD liner. Turns out the lyrics are, “It’s a beautiful day, the sky falls and you feel like it’s a beautiful day.” So, pretty close.

I love the song too: it’s a true rock song. I have it on CD, but I especially love it when I hear it on the radio. The heartbeat pulse at the beginning always makes my own heart leap with hope. But for me the best part of the song is the line, “I know I’m not a hopeless case.” I need that affirmation. I need to believe that I can change, that God will complete the good work he’s started in me.

Once, when struggling to find hope for myself, I wrote this chorus:                 

               You fear that you’ll only repeat the same scene,

               Or roll like a stone to the doom that you dread –               

               The future you see when you look straight ahead.

               But you don’t have to be what you always have been.

This is essential to what I believe: I am not a hopeless case. Neither are you.

********

In the interest of sharing the hope, here is U2 performing “Beautiful Day.” Enjoy!

By the way, if you’re not sure you like U2 – if they’re too epic/mainstream/popular for you – I’d recommend watching one of their concerts on DVD, because they just might change your mind. They are at their best live.


Creativity and the Fourth of July

July 4, 2009

I wrote this poem last summer after spending the Fourth of July with friends at Lake Stevens. It is dedicated to those of you who were there, sharing your creativity through music, dance, and fire poi. You reminded me that art is meant to be shared. You were joyful and spontaneous; you were living in the moment; you were so beautiful. Thanks for being who you are. This poem is my response.

July 4th, 2008 - On Lake Stevens 

 

The dancers dance on the dock

On the lake

As the drum beats in the dark

And musicians playFireworks

On the deck

Of the house by the lake

 

A fire burns on the sand

By the lake

And fire flies from the hands

Of dancers on the dock,

Whirling in time

To the music from the deck.

 

Dark boats stop

On the lake in the dark

To watch the dancer on the dock

Fling fire from her hands.

 

The dancers dance in the sand

And musicians play on the deck

And drummers drum on the dock,

As fire flares in the sky

And cracks above the dark lake.

 

© Elise Morrison Siegel 2009


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