A day in the life of a PeaceTrees deminer

From a PeaceTrees email:

PeaceTrees Vietnam’s core work is sponsoring the clearance of landmines and other unexploded ordnance (UXO) in Quang Tri Province in central Vietnam. Quang Tri was once dissected by the DMZ, and it continues to be heavily impacted by the legacy of war. In Quang Tri, which is slightly larger than the state of Rhode Island, a startling 1.6 times more explosive weapons were dropped than in all of Europe during World War II.

Today, more than 40 years after the end of the war, 74 percent of the land in Quang Tri province remains riddled with land mines, bombs, grenades, and other unexploded ordnance. Since 1975, at least 105,023 landmine and UXO casualties have been reported in Vietnam.

Six PeaceTrees explosive ordnance disposal teams work throughout the year clearing UXO from fields, schoolyards, roadsides and gardens. Our deminers, like Khuyen, whose story is featured in the video above, work to ensure that the members of their communities feel safe walking to and from work and when tilling their fields. 

Near gale on the Beaufort Wind Scale

SSW 37 mph.  Flickering lights.

An hour later.  SSW 35 mph.

Early Morning, Trees, Oboe

I love the two evergreen trees that someone planted years ago on the other side of Scudder Pond.  My guess is that the two trees spent a December in someone's house before being planted outside.  One is slightly smaller than the other.  It was years before they were tall enough for me to be conscious of them.

Yesterday evening, my sister who lives in Gulfport, Mississippi, sent an email to me and my youngest sister.  The email contained a photo of a little evergreen tree that she planted on her property.  I was struck by the coincidence that I had a vision a few days ago, upon awakening, of a tree like that growing in my heart.  It turns out that my sister's tree is a Deodar cedar.  Hmmmm ...  The linked article mentions weeping Atlas cedars, which brings to mind George Harrison's song "Beware of Darkness," from the album "All Things Must Pass," which R gave to me for Christmas in 1970 soon after his return from serving as a helicopter mechanic during the Vietnam War.  George Harrison was an avid gardener and planted an amazing number of trees on his property.



Weeping Atlas Cedars
They just want to grow, grow and grow

The next three trees are Sequoiadendron giganteum,  They were pointed out to me by a Bellingham friend who lives within walking distance of them.  Bellingham and Whatcom County have a surprising number of Redwood trees that were brought up from California, beginning at least a century ago.

Speaking of trees.  This was brought to my attention via my email inbox.

And that is Oboe, my talkative 13-year-old cat.

The ocean of my dreams / More from the Darkest Month Project

From here.

Looking closely at the photo from December 3 ...

Look closely at the photo, up to the right and slightly above Venus.  Snow Geese?  Trumpeter Swans?  Canada Geese?

Consciousness

Nadia Murad and Denis Mukwege / December 10, 2018

Transcript -- Nadia Murad



Transcript -- Denis Mukwege

On December 10, 2016, I wrote a haiku and rediscovered it once again today:

December snow mixed with rain
Heart knows the way
One with the ocean

In the early morning darkness of December 10, 2018, I can hear light rain.  A few days ago was the 12th birthday of my blog.  I'm grateful for new and old blog friends.  My consciousness continues to be illuminated in this small but vital community of kindred spirits.

Mandala #41: December Journey

Mandala #40: Person With Questions Revisited

"When you start to think of the arts as not this thing that is going to get you somewhere in terms of becoming an artist or becoming famous or whatever it is that people do, but rather a way of making being in the world not just bearable, but fascinating, then it starts to get interesting again." -- Lynda Barry

(from beth's blog 6 dec 2018)

December Dream of Dublin / Alive-Alive O

When I woke up this morning, I realized that I had been dreaming that I was in Dublin.

"In Dublin's fair city ... Alive-Alive O!"

The crescent moon and Venus have been extraordinarily beautiful before dawn in the last few days.  The days have been cold and clear as can be.

My angry mother loved the stars when she was alive / The sun is but a morning star

The light which puts out our eyes is darkness to us.  Only that day dawns to which we are awake.  There is more day to dawn.  The sun is but a morning star.
(Henry David Thoreau)

Today 24 years have passed since my mother's sudden and unexpected death from a massive heart attack when she was 78 years old.  When I woke up and walked out to my porch to look into the darkness in hopes of seeing stars, I looked out on a thick fog.  I don't mind when I wake up to fog because it tends to lift after dawn and precede an extraordinarily beautiful clear day.  Of course I thought of robin andrea when I saw that there were crepuscular rays above the morning star as the fog lifted.

Early in the last year of her life, my mother said with great weariness, "I am so tired of being angry."

My relationship with my mother was difficult, more so in the last years of her life.  My angry mother loved books, stars, art, writing, knitting, cooking, cheesecake, pistachios nuts, Chocolate Kisses, Mogen David wine, horses, lambs, sailing, Groucho Marx, Danny Kaye, Judaism, birds, watching figure skating, the sound of bagpipes, living by the ocean, stained glass, documentaries, Joan Baez (only after Joan became a mother), Carl Jung, and Bob Dylan's song "Ring Them Bells."

Today I am sharing an early morning photo and "Ring Them Bells" in honor of my no-longer-angry mother who loved stars, among other things.  This version by Mary Black and Joan Baez was recorded in the year after my mother died.  I think she would have liked this version.  I sense that my mother's anger and rage died with her.  It was only after my mother died that I was able to consciously experience my own anger and rage.  Mine must be a different kind of anger and rage because I am not exhausted by it.  Its power can be channeled in non-destructive directions.  Perhaps my mother was exhausted from feeling guilty for feeling angry.  I will never know.

Just Because (just because)

Just because I love this eccentric crazy-quilt-of-a-movie.  Early this morning, something prompted me to look through my things for the only Christmas card I ever received from R.  He sent it to me from California in 1987.  It has an embossed scallop shell on the front of the card and:

"Softly...gently...joyfully...Christmas arrives in the heart."

On the same shelf, deep in my hall closet, was the DVD of "My Own Love Song." I just finished watching it again.  It speaks to me in a healing way as the first evening of Hanukkah approaches, with Bodhi Day coming up on December 8, followed by Winter Solstice on December 21, Christmas and New Year's Day.  For years, going through the days of December was like walking through a mine field.  Gradually, something has changed inside me.  Starting this blog on December 8, 2006, was the beginning of whatever it was that made it possible for me to experience December in a different way. 

R loved Bob Dylan's music.  I think he would have liked both of these videos created in connection with Bob Dylan's 2009 album titled "Christmas in the Heart," which was released a year and a half after R died.  R's spirit, like Bob Dylan's, was characterized by gravity and levity and paradox.