Christopher Columbus

A man with a mission and moral vacancy.

Some, in the past, have tried to prove that Christopher Columbus was a Spaniard, others thought he might be a Greek, but serious scholars, through years of research, are firmly convinced he was an Italian. To be more specific, a Geonese, one who was born in or near Genoa, Italy.

Columbus had little or no formal education and spoke a native dialect that was never a written language. When, later in life, he did learn to write it was not in Italian, but Castilian, then a dialect of Spanish, but is now the main spoken language of Spain.

He worked in his father trade as a master weaver for awhile and even as a wine buyer for a little shop his father operated. In his early 20’s he started to make trips to sea, to nearby lands, perhaps to buy the wool and wine for his father’s shop.

His brother was a mapmaker, and for a while, he learned a little of that trade too. Once, as a deckhand on a voyage to England, French pirates sunk his ship and he used an oar as a life raft and made his way to Portugal. That turned out to be a fortunate event, for Portugal at the time was a center for overseas exploration, and the young shipwrecked Columbus learned navigation and hydrography.

Sixteen years later he set sail, and Columbus bumped into a new land unknown by him but peopled with tens of millions of tribes and advanced civilizations.

It’s immoral and sad that his exploration eventually led to disease, slavery, and the extinction of vast empires. He condoned native peoples rape and pilliging. In Europe he is said to have condemned Jews and non-whites for not being Christian. These are the historic truths of man who is honored for discovering America. Discovery? I think not. Honored? Hense, today’s controversy.

The Intrinsic nature of us

I send hugs and greetings to my friends in Vermont and elsewhere who embrace their nature with joy, wonder, and appreciation. I send profound respect to my friends all over the world who walk the talk and know that we are the nature we abuse.

I salute your passion, your dedication, and especially your appreciation of the “isness” of being in an environment of unimaginable beauty in its detail. So few of us take the time to look, to feel the consistency and comfort of nature’s grace and constant change.

Take clouds for example. In the last thunderstorm that rolled through your area, did you notice the roiling and darkened Cumulus Nimbus hammers that pounded your space? Did you look out and see their turbulence? Did you count the time in seconds between the lighting flash and the sound to know the approximate distance it was away? Or were you inside aware, but unobservant of what was going on in your immediate climate?

By our nature, we love the dichotomous aspect of nature’s nature. We gravitate to our preferences. Wet here, dry there. Cold there, hot here, and all of it interchangeable and all of it seemingly cyclical even though most of us cannot remember the weather specifics from month to month let alone season to season.

Sure summer was hot, and winter was cold, but beyond that did we notice any differences from the year before and the year before that? Did the other beings of nature react or play differently? Was there more fruit on the tree this year than last? Did you burn more wood one year over the next?

If all of us want spiritual awareness in life, if we want refined attunement to our soul’s environment; to our nature, then we need to choose first to be aware of our climate, and then our weather will be second nature to our understanding.

Meditation Aberrations

Killarney Lodge

There is a place on water’s edge
Where mind and nature meet.
It’s on a lake where land’s hooked wedge
Have lodge and water greet.

Each lodge abounds with cabin’s peace;
With silence silent through the night
Until, the dawn’s new light’s release
And morning’s sounds are fresh and bright.

A mist evolves from water’s heat
To fog the lake’s dawn’s peaceful claim,
But soon the sun will beam its treat
And shine the surface glass again.

Canoeing in Canada
Canoeing in Canada

All that I see is in my mind
From memories of my visit there,
But I would wish that all humankind
Could have this comfort everywhere.


Hi Again,

I have been silent, and that is good. I have been ill in a minor way, and that is OK. It’s done, and I am well.

I have watched and listened and read about all the things happening in the world and extrapolated all of it into my life and wondered again, “why” am I here at this moment in the illusion of time. It took a while, but I have an answer.

I am here in these volatile times because I chose it so, we all did, somewhere, sometime in someplace and NOW I must participate with joy in the amalgam of synchronicity that presents itself in each moment of worry, of surprise, of wonder.

In my meditation, over that last couple of vacant writing weeks, I have discovered a door that was obscured before. It is only my door. No one else can see it. No one, but me, can open the door to the bliss of awareness that is embedded on the other side.

Every time I push it open a little more, I get pulled back with the headlines.

Pain here, pain there, people killed, people hurting, actions that are only labeled as inhumanity to man by man, the challenges of survival when nature extends her fury or political rhetoric once again becomes the bulwark obstructing diplomacy and in all of these opportunities there is the choice for all of us to be of service if…if…if we choose.

I’m not sure I want to get back into the daily grind of listening, reading and being in the human antics. But I think I have to.

More later…