Reflections on Memorial Day, thoughts and the creation of memories May 25, 2009

After the Memorial Day ceremony, I was considering riding up to Mt. Baldy and curving around some of the roads there, but I didn't really want to drive such a distance with Memorial Day BBQ'er/drinkers on the freeways. After leaving Cook's Corner, we rode by the Mojeska Canyon turnoff. I hadn't been to the Tucker Wildlife Sanctuary in Mojeska Canyon http://www.tuckerwildlife.org/
in a long time, which I personally missed and was disappointing to me since it really brought out my pensive, thoughtful, meditative and underlying creative side. (Yes, I have one, don't go there) I had been coming there for years ever since the '70's, and it was a favorite little motorcycle ride, so when I heard that it wasn't just open to residents anymore (the floods after the fires limited access to the area to residents only. ), I decided to veer off and visit this old friend. I felt lucky my bike had stock pipes, because I didn't want to disturb anyone or anything TOO terribly much when I pulled up. I didn't have to worry, there were only 3 cars in the parking lot and the inhabitants of one of the cars were having a picnic across the way by the museum/store. When I got to the entrance I turned off the motor and coasted to a stop. People who came afterwards must have gotten a very mixed message about me, since my YAMAHA looks like a HARLEY (but it's not, it's a YAMAHA) and so looks to the unfamiliar eye like a 'biker' bike. BUT how can you not smile when you notice a small stuffed animal and 2 American flags on the back fender?

Looking back, I probably shouldn't've worn my vest with all the patches and pins, but I couldn't leave it on the bike, so wearing it, carrying my tank bag on my back (a version of a backpack that fastens onto a motorcycle tank via magnets) and my purse, I just had Too Much To Carry. To write ANYTHING, I had to sit down, take off the backpack, take off the purse, rummage around for the paper and pencil, then commence writing. By that time I had totally forgotten what I was going to write about. Ah, getting older does have disadvantages, but we learn to cope. (Next time I'll bring a mini-recorder and transcribe my words).
I'm glad I took so many pictures because the pictures bring back the day, bring back my feelings and thoughts to a certain extent. Some thoughts will have to remain unremembered; I'm running out of L2 cache.

I didn't know that the Santuary's days of operation were Tuesday - Sunday, closed on Mondays and major holidays, BUT the sanctuary was open, even though the museum/shop wasn't. Luckily the restrooms were open also. Trust me.
It was greener and more lush than before, with a few extra areas like a cactus garden, a sensory garden (lots of herbs, it smelled wonderful), and another pond or two. Now, I LOVE ponds. I LOVE water in any way, shape or form, running water, fountains, pooling in a pond, or frozen. It must be because I'm a water sign (Pisces) and my name Lynne means "lake or by a lake; pretty". I spent some time at the first pond, thinking my first thoughts and writing.
One of my all time favorite places for thought and meditation is the Bird Observation Porch. It's always the coolest place in the sanctuary, both temperature-wise and comfort/feeling-wise.
I took lots of pictures of the outside, the view from inside, and the birds that came to feed. Upper right, a view of the bridge from inside the bird porch. One would think that the birds would be used to visitors, and sometimes they'd stay around even if there was a bit of noise. Damned klutzy humans, always making a racket.
The Bird Porch was also a favorite of others coming to the sanctuary; other people, other people with their dogs, and other animals. Let me explain: I was sitting in the porch area (first time at the porch, I went back a few more times), sitting with a family who were watching the birds fly in and out of the area, and then a couple of chipmunks RACED through the porch under our feet and seats, chittered around in a far corner, tails up like bottle brushes, then they RACED back under our seats/feet back down to the outside. Pretty funny, but they, like I, were very comfortable in this environment.

I took some pics of the birds feeding. I didn't look up what kind of birds they were, didn't want to think that much, just wanted to enjoy the fact that they were pretty. Pictures of the birds that habitat the area were placed inside the eaves of the porch so people could identify the particular kinds of birds, but again, I didn't want to expend that much focused energy. I just wanted to enjoy, to observe, to think, to feel. Below left, another view from within the porch. I love that little birdhouse, above.

Above right, two birds (lovebirds? Ok, that's what I'll call them in lieu of any other information, plus I WANT to call them lovebirds for the metaphor I'm going to write). Notice that it seems that one feeds while the other protects and keeps watch. Interesting. That's how relationships should be-each creature taking turns taking a watch.

I don't know if you can see him to the right, but Mr. Lizard was ok with me snapping his picture. I actually got pretty doggone close to him.

I wasn't aware of it when I took this picture, but the sunlight shining through the trees gave the path an almost etherial look and feel.

After my first visit at the bird porch, as I was walking over the bridge of the creek/dry wash, I took a picture down the creekbed and noticed that it was more dry wash and NO creek. A premonition told me that in May, no water in the creek means another EXTREMELY dry, fire hazardous season. Tucker will probably be closed more this summer, so I'm glad I came this day.

I walked over to another pond, this time with fish (I hesitate to call them koi because I have NO CLUE if they were or not-OK, OK, just went to the website and found out some of them WERE ), one duck, and four turtles which were sunning themselves on a rock. (see video above) Each of the sites have a park bench set off to the side, practically unnoticeable, so I'd go over to that bench, sit, and write.




This is part of the cactus garden. I'm not a huge fan of cactus (cacti?) but I knew that it being May, I could count on some flowering. Judging by the obvious budding that was going on, I'd say there'll be flowers for the next few weeks, at least. Caveat-I'm no nature-ologist, just been around awhile to pensively think of these things.


One of the things I miss (or wish there were more of) are fir trees. The sound of the wind doing a combination hiss/rustle through fir branches, coupled with the fresh smell just rejuvenates me. Being around water and fir trees is heaven. Rides through Big Bear, Crestline, Lake Arrowhead are always my favorites because of the smell. I'm a very sensory person.
Of course I'm always going to learn something and I learned (albeit badly) how to take a picture with the timer set on my camera. I have to work on that a little bit, because the distance seemed ok but I didn't focus the camera, so the images were fuzzy. Or maybe I'm the one who's fuzzy. Or maybe both. I still don't like this picture all that much, so no wonder I'm usually the shutterbug and rarely if ever the subject.

Tucker is a great place to be motionless in order to harmonize with the outdoors without cutting into it or destroying it. That's why I'm here on this day. To try to harmonize my outdoors with my indoors, my inner part of me.

It's Memorial Day, and I was thinking about past wars that Americans had been in, the loss of life, thinking about my grandfather, my father, remembering how patriotic they were (my grandfather was the Past National President of the Military Order of the Purple Heart).

It's Memorial Day, a day also for memories of the past, not just of military engagements and military people but also the past of everyone, our own past, our own present, and the awareness of our making our own memories for the future. We are all making memories every day, every hour. My grandfather gave me a wonderful sense of history and geneology (it means the study of families and their family trees, in a nutshell), and so I'm always trying to take pictures and capture those moments that will bring this time, our time, to life for those who come after us.

In each of the areas it was so quiet I knew where the term "the silence is loud" comes from. When you become almost part of the scenery, part of the natural scheme of things, you can hear your inner self. I didn't really hear anything within myself, however; just a soft, cozy feeling, as if I was within a cloud of my own making, within a cloud of pure thought without them racing around, bumping into each other and fighting for my attention. There's some imagery for you-my thoughts fighting for my attention. Think of the irony of that statement.

I used to write a lot more about how I felt, how I reacted to things and people. As I've gotten older, I've realized that I didn't want to write about certain subjects and things, I wanted to just enjoy the feeling, or at least let waves of calmness come through-waves which I normally put up breakers against. Sometimes I feel that if I succumb to calm, I won't be able to come back to my bouncy hyper self. I LIKE my bouncy hyper self. I haven't really tried to be calm and then come back up. I haven't. Too scared, I guess, it's the same reason I don't do Yoga-I can't 'calm down' that much. I can't calm down...I have too much going on, too much to think about, worry about. Hmmm, potential relevation...you know, when you think you're worrying about someone else, you might be just worrying about how that person's situation will affect you and your life.

Why am I so good at helping others find their 'path', their way to go that seems the best (or least painful)? I can counsel, point out strengths and weaknesses (we used to call them pros and cons) and help that person answer the really tough questions that they, like myself are afraid to ask, but I why can't look outside myself and help myself answer those very same types of questions?

I couldn't really open myself up to think about things that I really wanted to think about, didn't want to touch those subjects yet. I think, with certain subjects (things that are very stressful on me or to think about) I need to be led through them with someone else who knows me, who can take me through my maze of the mind and clear a path which I can follow to a logical (or satisfying) or at least end conclusion. That's kind of what girlfriends are for.

I could enjoy the beauty of the day but couldn't use that uninterrupted 'soft' time to consider that which I needed to dig into my soul about.

Throughout time there have always been, are now, and always will be people who are givers; who give their time, their minds, their whole being to the service of others, because it make them feel good to help others see the way.

I used to be able to use this and other spots (the beach, Wayfarer's Chapel in Palos Verdes/Portugese Bend, anywhere, actually, around water) to contemplate life, what it means to me, what it could be, but there are too many variables, too much information to go over. I need time to mull over their meaning and what those variables could do for me, do for my family and friends around me.