Photography, Life
Bisou Brought a Fish to Bed, Excessive Heat Warning, a UB40 Concert at the Hollywood Bowl, a Praying Mantis, a New Balcony Project, and the Onset of Happiness Again
A month in photos
“Intellect ties people in knots and risks nothing, but love dissolves all tangles and risks everything. Intellect is always cautious and advises, “Beware too much ecstasy,” whereas love says, “Oh, never mind! Take the plunge!” Intellect does not easily break down, whereas love can effortlessly reduce itself to rubble. But treasures are hidden among ruins. A broken heart hides treasures.” — Shams of Tabriz, (The Forty Rules of Love by Elif Shafak)
Rounding a bend in the mountain bike trail yesterday — a spot where you can either ride up a lip of dirt or brave the rough patch below — I had the sudden realization that I was happy.
I have to say that it took me a bit by surprise. This year has been pretty epic as far as adversity goes.
It started with my stepdaughter entering a psychotic episode which lasted for weeks, and which sent her on-the-run from her husband and small daughter (and from us) as she evaded treatment. To this day she thinks we are evil incarnate for trying to chase her down and get her hospitalized. I had allowed a breath of hope to take root in my heart, in the year preceding this event, that she and I had finally reached a place of positivity after many, many years of a tough relationship. But it appears that that mirage has evaporated on the wind of mental illness. And the vileness of the words she spoke to my husband can never be “unheard.” We are still holding a space for hope for the future. But we are not holding our breath either.
Then, to heal a bit of brokenness in our hearts, my husband and I embarked on an Alaskan wilderness trip. It was an epic journey. But, literally, when we got off of the plane, we learned that our beloved cat, Emerson, had died several days before. And his sister, Uma, was severely injured. The cause? A trusted friend (who we’ve now learned is a sociopath) threw a party at our house while she was cat-sitting and did not keep the kitties inside. Our sweet, fluffy, baby was eaten by a predator, and his murderer (and I don’t mean the coyote) lied through her teeth, trashed our house to the tune of several thousand dollars of property damage, and even moved Emerson’s fur in the backyard to cover her tracks.
I’ve been trying to consciously cultivate “droplets of joy” in recent months. It’s all too easy to wallow in the immensity of grief. But happiness is not something that you can force. And I have to say that I’ve been drowning in sorrow for a while now.
Those of you who regularly read my poems and “weeks in photos” have probably been able to see the lack of inspiration and the dearth of creativity in my writings and photos.
But I am slowly starting to feel the “lifting of the fog.” I knew that this day would come. I just didn’t expect to feel that bubble of joy rising in me at that exact moment.
I took the higher lip on the trail.
And I am beginning to hear poetry again.
A dear friend gifted me the book, “The Forty Rules of Love” by Elif Shafak, and I have to say that I have taken great comfort in some of the teachings held within. It’s about Rumi, the 12th century Sufi poet and mystic and his beloved Shams.
Both Bisou and Uma have been helping me read it.
I’ve realized that the “treasure amongst the ruins “ was the eight years I had with my Emerson. It wasn’t long enough. He was supposed to grow old with me. But I would rather have the immensity of the pain accompanying his loss than to have never had him at all.
As part of the healing process, I’ve been building the “Garden in the Sky” — a balcony paradise for the kitties.
It’s fenced in with special kitty-netting to keep them safe. And it is teeming with oat grass, catnip, a raised bed (for fairies, and also to pee in, should the urge come over the cats) and a fountain.
But I also decided a few weeks ago to revamp the front balcony. I had planted it with succulents a few years ago, mostly for simplicity when we are traveling. But I thought that it was time to make it into a kitty paradise too.
My husband and I love to sit out on this balcony with the kitties and listen to music and drink wine. Here’s Bisou in a “before” photo:
And, here is the start of the renovation.
Here is Uma enjoying the finished product.
I added a fountain for the kitties to drink out of. Freyja really loves it.
And we have some little hedgehogs living in the pots.
We were out on the balcony the other night, and I looked up at the hillside across from us. I’ve always tried to keep the houses up there out of my photos, but I, quite suddenly, realized that view with the houses is lovely too.
We’ve heard conflicting stories, but the “neighborhood lore” is that the big mansion in that photo is the “Clothestime Mansion,” for those of you old enough to remember shopping at Clothestime.
We had an extreme heatwave here, in Southern California, a couple of weeks ago. It got up to 105 degrees. That’s pretty hot for us.
I felt so badly for the hummingbirds that I put ice cubes in their feeders.
Despite the heat, this Praying Mantis came to visit.
And then, we had the most amazing thing happen — rain! And I mean a real rain, the kind that comes along with a tropical storm off of the coast. Oh the smell — wet sage and dust and a collective breath of hope in the air from all of the wild inhabitants of this little part of the earth….
We went for a hike in Peter’s Canyon the morning after the rain and we were surprised at how quickly the plants were blooming and greening back up. The desert knows how to perform these miracles.
Here’s Bisou and Uma in the “Garden in the Sky,” where we all hung out, huddled under the umbrella during the downpour.
Freyja kept me company up there, during the start of the rain, too.
There is nothing like a spectacular sunset — fire dripping into the ocean and indigo shadows melting into Catalina Island — to help you remember how truly spectacular Mother Nature is. We viewed this spectacle from some friends of ours’ new home. Wowza, was all I could say.
As you might know, I love to mountain bike. And some of you might recall seeing photos of these standing stones on the trail I regularly ride. They get knocked down and reassembled on a regular basis. This is the most recent incarnation.
I had a little excitement last week when I found myself, all alone, at dusk, facing this sign.
I quickly back-tracked and high-tailed it home. Being eaten by a mountain lion did not sound like a great idea for the evening.
I also saw a road runner on the trail.
And we had another sort of wildlife encounter in the middle of the night.
I woke up to the sounds of Bisou meowing in his almost imperceptible high-pitched voice at the foot of the bed. I didn’t know what he was doing, but I gave him a quick pet and went back to sleep.
A little later, I woke up to what felt like something limp and dead under my hand in the bed.
With a bit of terror, I yanked my hand back, sat up, and turned on the light.
And I found this.
In the morning, he was so proud of his “catch.” He just couldn't stop prancing all over the bed.
I’ve branched out into different sorts of cat grasses for the balcony pots. I’ll let you know how it goes once they sprout.
We woke to fog, the first indicator of fall, the other morning. I love, love, love the foggy fall mornings here.
There is something about the onset of the change of seasons that always refreshes me. It’s like hitting the restart button. The beginnings of this year were tough but pausing to look at all of the small moments of joy in my life has made me realize that the ocean of happiness is always there.
Thank you all for following along with my “week in photos,” which turned into a “month in photos.”
I have to say that this medium community brings me much joy. You are no small part of my finding my way back to happiness. I so appreciate all of the friendships I have found here. I enjoy, so much, reading about your lives too — from skydivers to Australian bird photographers to the other photography nerds to the fellow travelers to the mystics and to the poets and to the short story tellers and to the rememberers of the past, and to so many other talented souls here…. You enrich my day. Thank you.
I will close with one more photo of UB40 (a little red, red wine, anyone?) We were lucky enough to have friends who had been gifted these tickets at the Hollywood Bowl and invited us to come along. I don’t think that I’ve ever been that close to a stage before. It was pretty fun to see it all up close.
Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, neurophilosopher, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies).
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Dennett /Anne Bonfert /Eileen Vorbach /Lisa Bolin /Tracy Aston /David Wade Chambers/Kim Zuch /Barbara Radisavljevic /LensAfield /Barbara Dalton /Sasha Meyer /Susan Alison /Diana Lotti /Barbara Dalton /K. Barrett /June Nguyen /Juan O. Aguilera /Ellie Jacobson /Shruthi Sundaram/ Pene Hodge /Tracy Aston/ Sandra Barrett/Jillian Amatt — Artistic Voyages /Shell Parsons/Ivy Shepherd/Mia Verita
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Photos and story ©Erika Burkhalter. All rights reserved.