Bird Droppings April 8, 2026
Occasionally, we need to learn again about the Rock and the Smoke, perhaps before it is too late.

Thinking back to my biology teaching days, high school students always ask questions about religion as we get into evolution. Occasionally, I get someone who wants to prove a point. A young lady brought in her father’s sermon on creation, arguing that the Earth was only about eight thousand years old. In detail or rough detail, the sermon explained the geologic strata of the Grand Canyon. Millions of years quickly developed an eight-thousand-year life span. It was sedimentation from the great flood of Noah. I did not pull up the recent lawsuit filed by the Noah’s Ark exhibit against its insurance company over flood damage. I explain my religion, or lack thereof, more simply. It is about the rock and the smoke.

“If people find no room in their lives to pray or to meditate, to reflect deeply on why they have been created and what they must do with their lives, and to listen with all of their being to the guidance of the universe, then these people are like birds who have not yet learned to fly. All the bird’s parts are present, but something is still missing. To be a whole person is to be alive in a physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual way.” The Sacred Tree, The Four Worlds Development Project, 1984

I started reading this short book several years ago and recently picked up again, only absorbing a page or two a day, not trying to force my read as I do so often, and got through it in a matter of minutes. There is an underlying theme with the tree of life, so often depicted in primitive traditions. In Native American thought, the tree intertwines spiritually and physically with all. Often, during ceremonies, a medicine man or woman would select a specific tree after careful thought for the occasion. It would be carefully taken down and then “replanted” at the ritual site. Sundance ceremonies always center on a tree, the main focal point of the entire ceremony. I could not help but think of the latest James Cameron movie, Avatar, and the depiction of the tree that connects all on the planet. Even The Game of Thrones and Avatar had sacred trees connecting everything.

In my own life, my early mornings are spent chasing sunrises, sitting, reading, and writing, which is a meditation of sorts for me. When I can, if time allows, although that does not sound good, I will wander out into the darkness to think and reflect, listening and watching as life unfolds around me. For many, being alone in the dark is not comfortable, but I have embraced solitude and quiet for some time.

“A sign that much work is needed in the area of personal spiritual growth is when a person dislikes being alone, and especially dislikes being alone in silence. Many people use television and or recorded music to fill the silence, so they do not have to experience themselves as they are.” The Sacred Tree, The Four Worlds Development Project, 1984

Years ago, I would walk out into the early morning’s darkness, all about me, wandering with a blanket wrapped about me, thinking and reflecting on things at hand. As I was searching, I found peace in the solitude and quiet of the early hours. As we moved over the years and my ability to walk became hindered, I started writing, reading, and reflecting as I sat and pondered. I started writing down my ideas and thoughts and sharing them with others. I found in each of my morning notes that an idea was there for someone. Today, as we are at a half moon and the night is bright with the moon’s reflection of the sun, perhaps speaking of darkness at night is a bit odd, but always, I have found that within darkness, there is light when we seek it. So, in effect, in my solitude, I have found community. It has been a few years since a dear friend shared with me and helped me remember a poet and philosopher of life I had forgotten.

“Walk easy on the Earth; each life has its fragile rhythm. To be aware of it is to understand, and to ignore it is to abandon oneself to sadness. It is to search vainly for the wholeness that only comes in surrender to what is.” James Kavanaugh, Quiet Water, 1991

James Kavanaugh passed away a few years ago, but his work will continue to inspire and awaken emotions in people for many years to come. There is a spiritual aspect to his writing, as he reflects on his own former priesthood in many of his writings. But he also separates from religion the spiritual context within each of us. It is that individuality and uniqueness that give us the essence of who we are and drive us to continue our existence.

“Existing is one thing, but making a purpose for your existence is another.” Kendall Gomez, neighbor, former LHS student, Delta Stewardess, mother, friend, and often philosophy genius

Kendall is one of the few who get up when I get up each morning, although she was away in California when she wrote this. Many days, Kendall would come by my room at school and talk, and even visit a few times after she graduated. She moved into our neighborhood several years ago, and it was interesting that neither of us knew we were neighbors for nearly a year. Granted, she is half a mile away from our house, but would that still be a neighbor? As I read her post this morning and one of her responses, which said that her purpose was to come up with riddles for others to solve, it hit me. Perhaps it is “better” stated that we find our purpose through our existence and may even find ourselves in that effort.

“Another sign that warns the traveler that his heart is empty of the gifts of the West is when a person does not feel respect for the elders or the spiritual activities and struggles of other people.” The Sacred Tree, The Four Worlds Development Project, 1984

We live in a world so interconnected to each other and yet so disjunctive as well. So many of our interactions that fail and go by the wayside are due to inadvertent differences of opinion, distrust, and beliefs rather than to any other rationale. I recall sitting down so many years ago with a man who was very much a man of faith. He was devout in his beliefs and staunch in his moral principles. We sat down in a small restaurant in town to discuss a program I had envisioned: working with indigent families and people as a prop. Knowing this fellow, I had brought a Bible along. Several verses were marked for their focus on helping others and providing for those in need. I did not indicate to this man another religious connection of any sort, and almost immediately, as we talked, he mentioned that Catholics were not Christian. My hand rested atop a Catholic bible. I found it interesting that, despite his desire to do good and help people, there was still this animosity toward another person. He had no idea of any connection to any church or religious affiliation, for me, other than a Methodist Church I was previously involved with, working with high school students. He knew I attended a Methodist Seminary along the way. So, already, we were, in some ways, semantically opposed, because he found one denomination wrong and one right, yet both evolved from the same traditions and history. We started a program, Shepherd Staff Ministries, and, until I left it over 26 years ago, we never disagreed on anything. He is still involved on the board of directors. People in our community were served with food, lodging, and counseling.

“Poverty is not merely a matter of not having ‘things’. It is an attitude that leads us to renounce some of the advantages that come from using things. A man can possess nothing, but attach great importance to the personal satisfaction and enjoyment he wants to get out of things which are common to all.” Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude, 1956

As I was selecting passages today, I was drawn to both Kavanaugh and Merton, who were Catholic clergy at some point in their lives. Kavanaugh had a falling out as he wrote about an outdated church and left the priesthood. Thomas Merton spoke out against war in a time when such things were not often politically correct and died suspiciously in Southeast Asia, electrocuted in a bathtub protesting the War in Vietnam. Merton was a Trappist monk till his death. When you read these two authors, their ideas flow and connect with the Native American concept of a world interconnected, which I started with. Merton often wrote about and was well-versed in Eastern thought, seeing a connection between all that was. Kavanaugh, in his poetry, wrote of the world almost as if he were a piece in a vast puzzle, a part of the whole.

“Thus, I am certain that somehow life will never end, because the assemblage of my friends and all the beauty of the world I have known, assures me that in some state, I must have a life of love to say what I feared to say on Earth. To give what I tried to give and couldn’t, and to thank you with all of me, when gratitude never seemed sufficient. I long to release all hurts and manipulations, any selfish expectation when pain and suffering got in the way of love and forgiveness, when age and self-pity interfered, or when my ignorance and arrogance prevented what I longed to reveal and share. When I realized I’d done the best I could with what I had from the past, when it was apparent that for one as good and fine and loving as you are, A lifetime isn’t long enough to love you.” James Kavanaugh, A lifetime isn’t long enough to love you, 1996

We of this modern era somehow get lost in all that is. We want to categorize, sanitize, and package seemingly undefinable ideas and thoughts. We want to research and develop vaccines to cure and control everything around us. We lose our connections. I was talking with a fellow teacher a few weeks ago, a very good friend who has served for nearly 35 years, both actively and in the reserves, in our military. He has been in Iraq, Afghanistan, and most conflict zones over the past 20 years. He has seen death and destruction at the hands and minds of men. We often talk about life in general, and while he knows my own beliefs and perhaps his might differ, we often find common ground.

I bumped into him on my way to check on a student while substituting a few weeks back, and we talked. I had an article I had been meaning to bring to him, as he teaches history. It is a National Geographic article about a tribe in Africa that is one of the few remaining hunter-gatherer societies on Earth. What is amazing to anthropologists is that there is no striving, stress, or animosity within these people. There are no items of desire or to covet. If you need a bow and arrows, you make one. If you need meat, you hunt, and if you need fruit, you gather. As we talked, I recalled another friend’s virtual game in which students develop a society from nothing, and how it is not until we begin to own things that strife and turmoil appear.

“We live in a whirl of images and noises, sounds, lights, desires, frustrations, pleasures, sufferings. Our lives are a cacophony; insulated from wind and rain and sun, from heat and cold, we are enshrined in our concrete and plastic catacombs. Living in such a world, is it any wonder we turn to drugs, to more sensational means of stimulation, to entertainment that renders us catatonic? Insulated from nature, ungrounded, why should we be surprised at our brutality? Where in such a world is there room for gratitude and for what should we be grateful?” Arthur Versluis, Sacred Earth: The Spiritual Landscape of Native America

I am getting carried away this morning, but so often an idea starts, and perhaps today I need to draw to a close and continue another day. To my right as I walked out of our driveway and cars, and to the left, pines and darkness, a seemingly distant world, untouched and real. I will use another line from Versluis, as he discusses the ideas and views of primitive people.

“There is, however, a mysterious unity between people and their landscape, between people and the creatures around them. This unity is subtle, not easily explained. But understanding it is essential if we are to enter into a different awareness of our world,” Arthur Versluis, Sacred Earth, the spiritual landscape of Native America.

Another day is near dawning, and another day of rest. It had been nearly eight Sundays since my mother passed away. I sat down at my computer after looking at my images from the morning. Today is yard work and texting the grandbabies, since all are on Spring Break. For all my former students and teacher friends, may peace be with you and yours, and may we, as a nation, find a point of reference to draw us together. For twenty-plus years now, I have ended my morning sojourns with this line: Please keep all in harm’s way on your minds and in your hearts. Namaste

My family and friends, I do not say this lightly,
Mitakuye Oyasin
(We are all related)
docbird