Is Not the Universe Within Us?

Wir träumen von Reisen durch das Weltall: ist denn das Weltall nicht in uns? Die Tiefen unsers Geistes kennen wir nicht. – Nach innen geht der geheimnisvolle Weg. In uns oder nirgends ist die Ewigkeit mit ihren Welten, die Vergangenheit und Zukunft. Die Außenwelt ist die Schattenwelt, sie wirft ihren Schatten in das Lichtreich. Jetzt scheint es uns freilich innerlich so dunkel, einsam, gestaltlos, aber wie ganz anders wird es uns dünken, wenn diese Verfinsterung vorbei und der Schattenkörper hinweggerückt ist.

We dream of traveling through the universe: is not the universe within us? We do not know the depths of our minds/spirits. Mysterious is the path that leads inwards. Within, or nowhere, is eternity with its worlds, the past and the future. The external world is a shadow world--it throws its shadow against the light. Now, of course, it seems to us so dark, lonely, and formless, but it will seem to us quite different when the eclipse is over and the shadow body has moved away.                                                                                                                                                                                            --Novalis

Nochebuena

Las luces coloridas brillan con neblina

en el aire frío,

y la nostalgia por el establo

cae como hojas húmedas.

Dentro de casitas, tamales y brandy,

quesos pequeños en papel de aluminio como regalos,

esconden por un momento, no más,

el deseo de ir al pesebre del Señor.

Todos juntos, hermanos y hermanas,

compartimos en el silencio de los animales

y en los canciones felices del cielo.

Klingsohrs Märchen

Detail from Philipp Otto Runge’s Die Nacht (from the suite Die Vier Tageszeiten [Die Zeiten])

Der König umarmte seine Tochter mit Zärtlichkeit. Die Geister der Gestirne stellten sich um den Thron, und der Held nahm in der Reihe seinen Platz ein. Eine unzählige Menge Sterne füllten den Saal in zierlichen Gruppen. Die Dienerinnen brachten einen Tisch und ein Kästchen, worin eine Menge Blätter lagen, auf denen heilige tiefsinnige Zeichen standen, die aus lauter Sternbildern zusammengesetzt waren. Der König küßte ehrfurchtsvoll diese Blätter, mischte sie sorgfältig untereinander, und reichte seiner Tochter einige zu. Die andern behielt er für sich. Die Prinzessin zog sie nach der Reihe heraus und legte sie auf den Tisch, dann betrachtete der König die seinigen genau, und wählte mit vielem Nachdenken, ehe er eins dazu hinlegte. Zuweilen schien er gezwungen zu sein, dies oder jenes Blatt zu wählen. Oft aber sah man ihm die Freude an, wenn er durch ein gutgetroffenes Blatt eine schöne Harmonie der Zeichen und Figuren legen konnte. Wie das Spiel anfing, sah man an allen Umstehenden Zeichen der lebhaftesten Teilnahme, und die sonderbarsten Mienen und Gebärden, gleichsam als hätte jeder ein unsichtbares Werkzeug in Händen, womit er eifrig arbeite. Zugleich ließ sich eine sanfte, aber tief bewegende Musik in der Luft hören, die von den im Saale sich wunderlich durcheinander schlingenden Sternen, und den übrigen sonderbaren Bewegungen zu entstehen schien. Die Sterne schwangen sich, bald langsam bald schnell, in beständig veränderten Linien umher, und bildeten, nach dem Gange der Musik, die Figuren der Blätter auf das kunstreichste nach. Die Musik wechselte, wie die Bilder auf dem Tische, unaufhörlich, und so wunderlich und hart auch die Übergänge nicht selten waren, so schien doch nur ein einfaches Thema das Ganze zu verbinden. Mit einer unglaublichen Leichtigkeit flogen die Sterne den Bildern nach. Sie waren in einer großen Verschlingung, bald wieder in einzelne Haufen schön geordnet, bald zerstäubte der lange Zug, wie ein Strahl, in unzählige Funken, bald kam durch immer wachsende kleinere Kreise und Muster wieder eine große, überraschende Figur zum Vorschein.

The king embraced his daughter tenderly. The spirits of the stars stood around the throne, and the hero took his place among them. A countless number of stars filled the room in graceful clusters. The servants brought out a table and a box, in which lay many cards, with holy, solemn signs composed of nothing but star constellations. The King kissed these cards with great devotion, shuffled them carefully, and gave some to his daughter. He kept the others for himself. The princess drew cards from her hand and laid them on the table. Then the king looked closely at his, and chose thoughtfully, as he laid each one before him. At times, he seemed to be forced to choose this or that card. Mostly, however, he experienced the pleasure of laying down a beautiful harmony of signs and figures in a careful arrangement all his own. At the beginning of the game, the most striking signs, with the liveliest appearance, were seen, the stars making the oddest faces and gestures, as though each had an invisible instrument in his hands, which he was eager to use. At the same time, a gentle but deeply stirring music could be heard in the air, which seemed to arise from the stars themselves as they whirled wonderfully about the hall with their strange movements. They swayed all about, first slowly and then rapidly, in constantly changing lines, and, following the progression of music, formed the figures of the cards in a most artistic manner. The music changed with the changing pictures on the table, and odd and abrupt transitions occurred frequently, though a common theme seemed to unify the whole. With unbelievable ease, the stars flew together, replicating the images. They were beautifully arranged in a great skein, and sometimes in individual clusters; now a long train scattered into countless sparks like a ray; but soon enough, the ever-growing smaller circles and patterns once again formed a great and surprising figure.                         

                                                                                          --Novalis, Heinrich von Ofterdingen

Weeds and the Butterfly Garden

About ten years ago, my family and I moved into a new house.  On the property were orange trees and patches of rue, an odoriferous herb used in some cultures as a culinary herb (in minuscule quantities), and as a good luck charm in others.  The orange trees gave us delicious Valencia oranges, and the rue, attractive, small yellow flowers in the early spring, but they also brought us another gift: swarms of giant swallowtail and black swallowtail butterflies.  We added a lime tree and parsley, and discovered that the giant swallowtails were also fond of lime trees, and the black swallowtails, of the parsley as well as the rue.  The abundance of these butterflies, along with the other lepidopteran visitors to the lantana flowers that grew everywhere around our new house, led me to an interest in butterflies in general, and specifically, in those who shared our home.

      As I learned a little about butterflies and their habits, I came across instructions for creating a “butterfly garden.”  We were already surrounded by butterfly-friendly plants, and I added others that butterfly gardeners recommended.  Soon pentas, butterfly milkweed, vitex (chaste tree), buddleias (butterfly bush), and verbena joined the lantanas, mint and sunflowers.  To make room for them, I cleared out “weeds” like wild purslane, clovers brought by birds, globe mallow, and wild grasses.   I added “sunning rocks” and a water source for the butterflies.  All of the butterfly garden instructions that I found online emphasized the importance of planting flowers that were good butterfly attractors; essentially abundant, accessible sources of nectar for adult butterflies.  I used guidebooks and sites like www.butterfliesandmoths.org to learn to identify a wide variety of butterfly visitors.

     In the course of learning to identify various butterflies by sight, I also began to learn about their life cycles.  The led me to the realization that a truly thriving butterfly garden meant more than just having lots of flowers for the adult butterflies.  Hadn’t I first noticed the butterflies because of the abundance of food in our yard for the larvae of the giant swallowtails and black swallowtails?  I slowly realized that my butterfly garden needed not only food for the adult butterflies, but also plants for them to lay eggs on that could serve as food for their larvae.  I learned what host plants our butterfly neighbors needed in the larval stage, and whether or not they were available locally.  The first step was to see if they existed in our garden.  Then I walked the immediate neighborhood to see if they grew in other yards. 

      On occasion, I would see a gulf fritillary on the lantanas in our yard, and I learned that their larvae subsist solely on members of the passion vine family.  I was happy to find that several of our neighbors had stands of passion vines growing in their yards.  (I would also like to plant passion vines someday, if I can just find the right spot.)   I also realized that many of the plants the butterfly larvae in our area needed for food—which were considered “weeds” but thrived in alleys, along roadsides, and in vacant lots—were regularly being eradicated by the city through the massive spraying of herbicides.  And I also learned that many of the plants I had eliminated from the garden as “weeds” were, in fact, important host plants for butterfly larvae.  Wild purslane, for example, is a crucial host for the larvae of our abundant variegated fritillaries, who typically depend on violets in other biomes.  Where I live, the hot climate and alkaline soil and water make it almost impossible to cultivate violets outdoors.  The lack of violets means that the variegated fritillary larvae in our area have come to depend almost exclusively on wild purslane.  Needless to say, I quickly reintroduced wild purslane into the garden.  (Wild purslane, Portulaca oleracea, is also a delicious, highly nutritious salad herb.)  Globe mallow, a favorite of grey hairstreak and painted lady larvae, was also welcomed back.  (Again, it is a useful herb as well; its roots have many medicinal applications, and its flowers make a delicious tea.  It’s a little hard to harvest, as its leaves shed tiny, irritating hairs, but it is also delightful simply as an ornamental.)

      All of this has led me to suggest to people who are interested in creating a butterfly garden to follow four simple steps to insure success:

  

1.      Familiarize yourself with the butterflies that live in your area and learn to identify them.  There are good guidebooks for this, and the internet is also a great resource.  At www.butterfliesandmoths.org you can search for the specific butterflies found in your state and county.  Remember that butterfly databases are based on verified sightings within a given area, so you may occasionally see a species that is not in a database for your region.  This means that you may have to do a little extra research to identify it.  But databases are generally a good starting point.

 2.      After you have learned what butterflies live in your area, learn what plants the adults and larvae use for food, and how to identify those plants.  Take a walking tour of your neighborhood and see if those plants exist in other people’s gardens or in the wild.

 3.      If good butterfly host plants are not commonly found in the area, and if you would like to give your local butterflies a helping hand, consider planting them in your own garden.  Of course, you will need to make sure that the plants you choose are suited to your region.  If you regularly experience hard frosts, you don’t want to try cultivating orange trees, for example.  Hardier rue is a better choice.  Oranges and rue belong to the same family, and rue is an attractive host for giant swallowtail, anise swallowtail, and black swallowtail larvae.

 4.      Finally, before you pull out weeds, learn a little about them.  Many plants considered “weeds” are actually beautiful ornamentals, valuable medicinal or culinary herbs, and essential butterfly larvae hosts.  In many places, Virginia snakeroot is considered to be a nuisance, to give one example, but it is also a useful medicinal herb in experienced hands, an attractive ornamental, and an important host for the pipevine swallowtail.  If you are worried about the “weeds” spreading and taking over, cultivate them in pots.

      Following these simple steps will help to create a complete habitat for your butterfly neighbors and accommodate them during their entire life cycle.  In this way, you will not simply have a butterfly garden, but a true butterfly environment. 

Feast of St. Francis

Laudato si, mi Signore, per sora nostra matre Terra,

la quale ne sustenta et gouerna,

et produce diuersi fructi con coloriti fior et herba.

Be praised, my Lord, through our sister Mother Earth,

who feeds us and rules us,

and produces various fruits and colored flowers and herbs.

                         --St. Francis of Assisi, “Canticle of the Sun”

Die Natur hat Kunstinstinkt

Die Natur hat Kunstinstinkt – daher ist es Geschwätz, wenn man Natur und Kunst unterscheiden will.

Nature is instinctively artistic—therefore, it is idle nonsense to separate nature and art.

                                                               --Novalis

butterfly rock

Living with Nature

In one of his books, Joseph Wood Krutch decries the idea of nature as spectacle.  He reminds us that in order to truly understand and appreciate nature, we must have an intimate connection with it.  We must allow ourselves to be molded by nature, its rhythms, harmonies, and cycles.

We must know the habits and ways of everything surrounding us: the life cycles of the insects, the way that stones weather, what the birds and animals depend on for food, and what plants emerge only after the rains, as opposed to those that stubbornly persist even in times of drought.  I think of how much I love the desert marigold, one of the most beautiful of wildflowers.

Or the five-needle pricklyleaf, that is ubiquitous in the little corners of wildness that exist in our neighborhood.

 Bright globe mallow, that, like all mallows, has many medicinal uses.

  The Turk's head (eagle claw) cactus, like this young specimen.

Or the nipple beehive cactus, which, like many species in both the U.S. and Mexico, is affected by illegal poaching, and habitat loss due to unchecked land development.

We can learn harmony with nature, whether in the wilderness or in the garden, by only taking what we need,

and leaving the rest undisturbed, so that others, whether they be our fellow human beings or our fellow creatures, may find enough for their needs--even if that need is only for a place of beauty and peace.

The Desert Greens Up

The desert greens up with the late summer rains, turning rock and sand into a carpet of lush growth.  The drought resisters put on new leaves, and the drought evaders spring up, grow, and flower almost overnight.  As we walked the Cottonwood Springs trail in the Franklin Mountains State Park, we were surrounded by an unusually lush Chihuahuan Desert.  I was reminded of Isaiah 35, which anyone who has lived in the desert can relate to--a vision of the dry land blooming and suddenly filling with springs and waterholes as a metaphor for hope and joy.

Amid the rock and sunshine, life finds a foothold, as roots search for moisture brought by the monsoon winds.

"The rock, all matter, all life, is charged with dharmakaya . . . everything is emptiness and everything is compassion."
                                                      --Thomas Merton, The Asian Journal of Thomas Merton

The Monsoon Rains

In the late summer the monsoons arrive, bringing heavy, though spotty, rain showers.

The desert greens up and wildflowers bloom, like the spreading fleabane (Erigeron divergens), a medicinal herb with many uses.

Gardens and fields also welcome the nutrient-rich rains.

Depending on the amount of rainfall, one species might be abundant one year, and another, the next--like these Blackfoot daisies.

Cacti store water and ocotillos make leaves.  These Texas rainbow cacti, prickly pear, and ocotillos live in the foothills of the Franklin Mountains, on a slope that carries heavy runoff during the monsoon rains.

Colorful mesquite pods.  Edible honey mesquite pods should be harvested before the monsoons.  They can contain high amounts of toxic aflatoxin B1 produced by a common fungus (Aspergillus flavus) if left wet on the ground for too long.

Organ Mountains-Desert Peaks National Monument

A few years ago, President Obama created the Organ Mountains-Desert Peaks National Monument to protect the historic, scenic, archaeological, paleontological, and geological treasures of the Organ Mountains, Potrillo Mountains, Doña Ana Mountains, Robledo Mountains, and Sierra de las Uvas.  The Potrillo Mountains unit contains volcanic cinder cones, lava flows, and craters.  The creation of the monument was the result of many years of effort by a broad-based coalition of people and is certainly one of the finest achievements of the Obama Administration.  Overall, the four sections that make up the monument encompass a total of 496,330 acres.  Adjoining it is Prehistoric Trackways National Monument, which contains footprints of numerous amphibians, reptiles, and insects, as wells as plants and petrified wood dating back 280 million years to the early Permian period.

My wife, Libby, and I recently visited Aguirre Springs Recreational Area, which is located in the Organ Mountains unit of the monument. 

Eastern face of the Organ Mountains

Tularosa Basin from the Organ Mountains

Sugarloaf Peak

Pine Tree Trail

Rabbit Ears

All Creation is Holy

The sloka from the Isha Upanishad:

        īśāvāsyamidaṃ sarvaṃ yatkiñca jagatyāṃ jagat |

       tena tyaktena bhuñjīthā mā gṛdhaḥ kasyasviddhanam ||

  can loosely be translated as:

      God is present in everything; therefore, everything is enjoyed through renunciation.

 This is very much the way of St. Francis, the truth that following the path of renouncing possessions allows us to belong to God alone; to have only one treasure.  And since all things are of God, this means that we can experience creation as "brother" and "sister," not as "mine" or "yours," because all people and things become what they really are: our fellow children of God, filled with God's spirit, instead of an illusory bit of personal property. Who can actually possess the wind?   Does a title confer real ownership over the abiding desert?  Only through love does the world become real to us.  We don’t need to "own" a friend--or a stream, or the sun, or the mountains, or the trees of the forest--to truly enjoy them, to experience their sacredness. They are naturally ours, not by right of possession, but through the experience of divine kinship.

I Saw That It Was Holy

I looked ahead and saw the mountains there with rocks and forests on them, and from the mountains flashed all colors upward to the heavens. Then I was standing on the highest mountain of them all, and round about beneath me was the whole hoop of the world. And while I stood there I saw more than I can tell and I understood more than I saw; for I was seeing in a sacred manner the shapes of all things in the spirit, and the shape of all shapes as they must live together like one being. And I saw that the sacred hoop of my people was one of many hoops that made one circle, wide as daylight and as starlight, and in the center grew one mighty flowering tree to shelter all the children of one mother and one father. And I saw that it was holy.

                                                                                     --Heȟáka Sápa (Black Elk), Black Elk Speaks

West Texas

I was out in West Texas this weekend with one of my children.  It was hot and dry, but the Chihuahuan Desert was filled with sturdy and tenacious life.

Hudspeth, Culberson, and Davis Counties were scenic with mountains as we headed east on Interstate 10.  (Once we entered the Permian Basin, though, the land became endlessly flat, and dotted with oil and gas wells.)

Below is a photo I took of rocky hills in Hudspeth County that look to me like they are made up of some kind of intrusive igneous rock.  

They were on the other side of the highway from Sierra Blanca, a conical 6,891-foot peak that is something of a landmark and gives a nearby community its name.

In the distance were the Apache Mountains, one of three places where the Capitan Reef is exposed. The Capitan Reef was an enormous 400-mile reef that surrounded a sea called the Delaware Sea in the Permian Period, approximately 250 million years ago. The reef was buried under millions of years of sediment until mountain ranges were uplifted (primarily during the Laramide orogeny), exposing parts of the limestone "fossil reef" left by reef-building creatures like sponges, algae, coral, and other lime-secreting marine life (the other exposed parts of the Capitan Reef are found in the Guadalupe and Glass Mountains).

Below is a picture of Gomez Peak (6,320 ft) under gathering clouds.  It is located at the northern end of the Davis Mountains.

The clouds promise rain, which usually arrives in late summer (it poured in El Paso just after we returned home).  The desert blooms, and the colors of the rock are joined by the brightness of wildflowers.