Stepping Outside Myself

That moment when the door
opens, over the threshold
I go
stepping outside
into the cool mountain air
instantly refreshed
enlivened
face meeting face
lung breathing into lung
oh sweet, beautiful rarefied air!

And the sound
of quiet 
not silence
deep
stillness
flowing
relaxing my mind
and every muscle
in my face.
I smile.

Sounds so true
as to hold silence within
and aliveness too
voices within voice
river-bird and wind-horse

Voices come 
all around
sparrow and sparrow-
hawk
kiik kiik kikkikki!
flicker and eagle
boink boink 
of raven.

An aliveness that
moments ago
while inside
I could not detect
did not notice
did not know existed.

But now
oh sweet NOW!
Now I know
I am flush 
with knowing
standing with
leaning into
listening intently
to this.

What is it about this moment?
Yes, yes I mean this moment
this exact moment
when I step across
feeling the ineffable
lightness of 
being outside.

Cold winter air
river cry 
eagle call
deep stillness
poised on the brink
of wonder and mirth.

Simply 
stepping 
outside
myself
into the brilliance of another day.

by David LaFever

Hai, hai, hai – kooo!

Since the first of the year, for some reason, I have been writing poetry, especially haiku, every single day. I wonder if it is just part of my seasonality with subtle cues and responses of my internal landscape to the external rhythms of energy. For whatever reason I have been really enjoying writing again and have been practicing writing haiku both within prose and as a stand-alone journal entry. I hope that you enjoy the haiku below and that they give you some sense as to my life – both the inner and outer geographies and where they meet.

Six from Portland

Inside and outside
Neither true nor false
A warm cup in my hands
Pacific lamprey
450 million years and counting
no bones about it
Rain slanting sideways
Misty masses of movement
Blows me inside
A restless spirit
Moves in all things unsatisfied
Or is it the coffee?
Cold, gray Portland streets
Harder than the hardest rock
Cardboard for a bed
What is it I feel?
The power of Multnomah
Misty eyeglasses

From Home (the Methow Valley)

Cold sparkling night sky
A full moon illumines all
Shadows pass quietly
Snowed lightly all day
Where does it all come from?
Kids tracks everywhere
Sledding party fun
Joy echoing through the woods
Snowflakes lightly falling
A bitter cold wind
Blows from the north, then the south
The snow squeaks underfoot
That which I call pain
Takes all my concentration
And then dissipates
Snow started mid-morn
Cold air crystals floating down
like cottonwood seeds
Earlier today
A rodent met its demise
Where talon met snow
Sweat lodge on the rez
Coyote tracks in the snow
Where to go from here?
Stepping outside, night
Looking skyward from earth, stars
Standing on my head
Quiet evening at home
Lights are low, kids are asleep
A great horned owl hoots
Wet snow falling down
Up and down we go, up
and down the slopes once more
A kind of fun, a
distracted fun. They said,
"You're a good skier."
Around the fields, I
skied. Goat Creek, Coyote and
back to Mazama
Gray and cloudy days
Slushy streets and dripping roofs
Where has the cold gone?
My girl all curled up
on my chest, weighing me down
Lifting me up too!

The Creek Flows Thick

IMG_0517
Photo by Jimmy Zammar

It has been both cold and warm lately. I awoke this morning at 6:15 am and it was 15 degrees F outside, yet southern exposures are becoming snow-less. I hear red-winged blackbirds and Canada geese and see other signs of spring. Each day the angle of the sun increases and the bus is hit more directly by its warmth. At the same time, we’ve gotten new snow recently and I continue to enjoy the heck out of winter and especially skiing.

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Photo by Jimmy Zammar

Some days ago I hit the trail behind our house and headed towards town before turning up a steep trail called Powers Plunge. It challenged my cardiovascular system and I felt like a turtle crawling up a steep bank. There were two climbs and I was tired and sweating after navigating the second and gentler of the two. From there I headed on towards town yet again, on a different trail this time, looping on around to head back home. All in all, I skied over 18 km (11 miles) in an hour and half or so. As I neared home, I crossed over Wolf Creek, pausing to gaze at its ice-bound beauty and I composed this short poem:

The creek flows thick
and solid with cold.
Over, under, around and through
Ice flowing in ways I cannot
imagine, in places I cannot
maneuver. Ice into ice,
water through water.
A ceaseless dance of change –
changing form, the formless,
the molecules remain the same.

 

IMG_0516
Photo by Jimmy Zammar


by David LaFever

Snow Falling on Pines

Here is a poem I wrote yesterday while it snowed steadily outside:

A long snowflake falls
from a gray-white sky.
I watch it float, lazily
to the snow-covered ground.
Snow clouds drape the ridgeline
across the valley.
Blue Buck, Pearrygin, and Tripod
Veiled by the gauze sky.
An hour later, the snow is coming down
All peaks and ridges are obscured, have disappeared.
Hidden behind a world of snow, cloud to ground
Illusory and temporary in nature.
I wonder about that one snowflake I saw
Falling hours ago, where is it now?
Somewhere, nowhere, lost in it all
Snow falling on pines.

By David LaFever

 

Three for the Methow

DSCF4796
Photo by Jimmy Zammar

Methow River flowing green
Reflecting trees above, sky below
Flowing on, out of snow-mountains
Past forest and field, farmhouse and cabin
On past Goat Wall and an old Western town
Onward it winds, narrowing
Into canyons, whit water rushing
Hurrying to a dammed world below.

The river flows and flows
	without end.
Birds flit and flutter along the banks
	chittering to no end.
Mountains stand, still
	from beginning to end.
Cars whiz by on the highway
	hurrying to no end.
With no beginning and no end,
	why hurry at all?

Two young girls play along
	the bank of a river flowing.
Sticks for kids, trees a home
	an oriole flits and flutters high above.
The warm sun comforts my back
	while a cool breeze floats down river.
Tall cottonwoods stand with their toes in the water
	Balls of soft seeds float on the wind.
"Look its snowing," she says excitedly
	chasing dreams of imagination.

Written by David LaFever

Sparkling Waters

A poem from an inspiring winter day along the South Fork Elk River.


by David LaFever

Witless Wanderings of Nibbling Sheep

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Sparkling waters speaking, a language their own

Bursting bubbles everywhere

Hearing sounds, not understanding words

Intertwining in meaning

Deepening redwoods, mossying alders

Graying jay, downying woodpecker

Spawning salmon, flowing water

Lengthening shadows

Elk River, a winter day.

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Clouds and Birds and Trees

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We see rain clouds moving across the sky

Flowing northwards like a river in the atmosphere

Drifting onward to another time and place.

 

Wild winter winds whip the tree

Does the wind move the clouds

Or the clouds move the wind?

 

Wind-moving clouds dance with the trees

Birds fly with the wind, the clouds

We love you clouds and birds and trees.

 

(written by Madeleine Jane LaFever, age 5 3/4, and David Howard LaFever, age 37)