Styro-Samurai

Perhaps it was the fine quality of this pre-Spring day that caused renewed stirrings within the old Styro-Samurai Warrior?  It had been many years worth of seasons since the Emperor had granted him this land to protect and bequeath to his descendants  in gratitude for the loyalty of his service.  He came to the realization that his advancing age was rendering him mortal and that if he wanted to walk his vast estate one last time…he had better do it sooner than later.  The Styro-Samurai attached his heirloom katana to his back and ventured alone away from his home.  The journey could take him many weeks to complete.  This sunny day began with much promise.  The trees were starting to produce buds and yes, there were early season wildflowers too.  The birds were returning.  A favorite Yellow-bellied Sapsucker the Warrior had seen for the past five years was once again in his favorite Sweet Gum tree.  Geese were everywhere and an Osprey flew overhead with a fish in its talons.  Life seemed to be moving in the timeless rhythm that it always had.  The Warrior decided to venture closer to the river for a better look.

The first thing the Warrior observed were trees submerged by the river that normally stood high and dry.  In all his years, he had not seen this happen very often and he stood transfixed by the sight.  Rousing himself, the Warrior continued his walk to a favorite creek.  In his mind he recalled the agitated call of the Belted Kingfisher on the wing and its wildness made him smile.  Upon reaching the creek…this is what the Warrior saw.

Hundreds of logs representing hundreds of once living trees lined both sides of the creek.  What is happening here!?  These were trees from the pure land and their wood is a treasure, their roots hold the soil together, and their leaves provide cooling shade in Summer among all the other blessings they bestow.  These trees represent so many potential fulfilled wishes.  So much wasted wood and where did it come from?  The Warrior surmised that this was further evidence of flooding.  These trees probably washed away from their respective banks from distant fiefdoms and were carried here by the spirit of the river?

Walking the shoreline he came upon more evidence that the river was claiming the trees that dared to grow nearest to it.  For the Styro-Samurai, it was an alarming sight, but nothing had yet suggested that this way anything other than Nature being moody.  His view was about to change as he rounded the bend of the river.

The Warrior entered a field that was strewn with discarded plastic and Styrofoam.  This was an outrage and the Samurai drew his katana! Who dares to be this disrespectful to the land!

At last, someone to blame for this clearly was the by-product of men. The Warrior was seeing red and looked for someone or something to strike back at…but there was no one else present except for the gulls flying over the river and they were making no sounds.

Marching with his sword drawn, the Warrior advanced down the riverbank.  There was a quality in his rage that was tempered by battle and had made him a legendary and feared adversary in the prime of his youth.  But that was then and this is now and as he neared one of his favorite trees…he sheathed his katana again.  Up ahead was a treasured spot where a large and special Cottonwood tree grew.  The Styro-Samurai’s pace quickened in anticipation.

This great and revered Cottonwood tree that in the Warrior’s time was the setting for many tea ceremonies was now covered in plastic tarps and a sign warning to “keep out” was posted.  Again, here is the hand of man at work!  Who has the impudence do this in the Styro-Samurai’s land?  By what right would these interlopers claim this tree as their own and defile it with their junk?  Full of righteous indignation, the Warrior entered the space under the trunk of the tree.

It was empty…no one was there at all.  Although the smell of wood smoke was present…the ashes were cold.  Improvised seating was arranged around the fire pit.  Growing depressed, the Styro-Samurai sought the warmth of the sunshine and sat down to ponder what he had observed thus far.  Indeed, the world had changed much since he last walked it far from the comforts and isolation of his fortified castle.  The old soldier had a revelation that mindfulness had been usurped by consumption based upon all the trash he saw everywhere.  The world was moving away from him.

While the Styro-Samurai was engaged by his thoughts…he was approached by a common man who gestured that he wished to speak and so began a conversation.  The man also remembered a different time and place where respect was accorded to both man and beast alike.  There was an understanding that nature worked in certain ways and that it was wise to stay within the sustainable limits.  The man confirmed to the Warrior that the changes he was seeing in his own land were in fact simultaneously occurring everywhere else too.  The common man then asked for forgiveness for what he was about to say which the Warrior granted.  He reminded the old soldier that in their day…there was a common and accepted code that shaped the behavior of all.  It began with the Emperor and then passed through the Samurai down to everybody else.  It seemed to the man, that the flow of wisdom had been interrupted by a changing and challenging time and needed something like a new code to help bring it all back into balance.  With those words the common man took his leave.

The Styro-Samurai had seen enough and walked back to his castle.  He mulled over the words the mysterious common man had left him with and acknowledged to himself that they seemed to ring true.  A different day was indeed at hand and perhaps the time of the warlords was ending.  The idea that a different code was needed, but what can one do to achieve enlightenment in an impure land? When the Warrior reached his home he cleansed himself and before the assembled public, removed his sacred katana from its scabbard and replaced it with an ordinary garden rake.

For several weeks the old Warrior meditated by creating a rock and sand garden.  Working the earth helped create a different connection to the land that he didn’t have before and was now cultivating.  The Styro-Samurai invited his courtesans and the other people in the castle to assist him.  To his surprise, most everyone found this activity relaxing and beneficial.  It no longer became his garden and became our garden which brought with it a sense of shared responsibility and value.   He wondered if this idea would work for a land the size of a country ?  Soon he would try talking to the Emperor about this and hope for the best.

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Jeff’s Odd Dream

Jeff and I have been great friends for over thirty years now.  It’s a strange feeling when you realize that much time has flown by.  We met at Murray State University in far western Kentucky and attended art school together and have kept in touch ever since.  Now we both live with our families in Louisville.  I’m proud to say that we still self identify as being artists.  This has not been an easy thing to do.  I’ve read that most people who attend art school eventually stop thinking of themselves as artists once the work-a-day world takes its toll after graduation.  Jeff and I have been lucky and can say that most of our professional lives have not strayed too far from art making or being in the art world.  We have never shaken our need to make ideas and materials connect.  These days, Jeff enjoys making some very involved and often witty ceramic sculptures and through this blog you know something about me.  This is not the first time Jeff has accompanied me on one of my “epic adventures” to the Falls of the Ohio and I always enjoy his company and conversation.  Today is a beautiful late September day and we are hiking in the western section of the park and enjoying the sunshine.

This is a less traveled path, but often worthwhile.  Today there are many late summer/early fall wildflowers to see.  We stopped by one of my favorite trees in the park.  It’s an old cottonwood tree whose roots have continued to grow with the tree even while the riverbank has eroded and exposed these roots to the elements.  This has not kept this tree from thriving.  Over time, a space beneath the tree large enough for a person to stand has been created.  This image of Jeff under the tree will give you a better idea of what I mean.  I have used this space on many occasions to wait out rain showers or take a break from my walks.

Over the past two years this tree has attracted a lot of attention and unfortunately for any other visitors…you can see evidence of their “footprints” all around this cottonwood. There is more litter around and several fire pits contain partially burned trash.  The tree trunk itself has become a target for graffiti as people with pen knives and spray cans have left their marks.

The sun was shining full-bore and warmed the day up nicely.  While I spotted some birds I wanted to check out…Jeff decided to hang out by the tree and take a nap.

When I returned from bird watching, Jeff was waiting for me and recalled an odd fragment from a dream he just had.  Even in his resting state he felt as though something was checking him out.  First he heard the sound of movement in the dried leaves and then caught sight of an odd small figure in brown with long ears skulking about the shadows.

Jeff remembers trying to wake himself up, but the dream continued.  The small brown figure then called out and was soon joined by a second figure that was larger and all in white.

This newest figure was even more bizarre than the first and more frightening for sure.  It sported a large misshapen head, wild eyes, and a mouth trimmed in blue.  Within his dream, Jeff heard a narrator saying that these figures were called “tree spirits” and all trees have them.  These characters may have been up to no good.  It’s hard to say, but fortunately they are easily frightened away.  Jeff thinks they may have belonged to the cottonwood tree and were paying a visit in case we were thinking of doing some damage to this beloved tree.  There were two spirits because there were two of us.  Anyway, Jeff doesn’t know how or if it all played out because he woke up.

It had already been a full day and we decided to head for home.  Although Jeff was partially refreshed from his nap, I was beginning to feel tired.  The car was about an hour’s walk away and we still needed to cross over the small creek that divides the western section of the park from the Woodland Loop Trail.  We gingerly walked over the logs left over from the last flood balancing ourselves with our walking sticks.  We were in no hurry here.

It was great having another adventure with an old friend!  I’m sure that we will do this again. Jeff found an extra walking stick to take home and that became his souvenir of the day.  For me, I walked out of the park with my images and this story I’m about to post.  Thanks for stopping by…until next time from the Falls of the Ohio!

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Soul Man

The heat and the relentless light of the sun makes it official.  It’s summer at the Falls of the Ohio.  Now I need to plan my forays a bit more carefully if I want to get the most from each trip out here.  Earlier in the day is better.  You miss most of the heat, there are fewer people (except for the die-hard fishermen) and the chances are better you might see some wildlife…especially birds.  Luckily, if you don’t make it out here early enough…the trees are all in full leaf and the shade provides needed relief.  I wonder what kind of summer is boding for this year?  So far we have had the warmest spring ever being nearly a full seven degrees above normal temperatures.  Yikes!!  No doubt, summer will find a way to be memorable.  Anyway, when I’m out here I try to take some precautions in the form of drinking water and sun block.  Once my mind engages on something…I tend to forget my body.  This post is about another “personality” that I ran into on this day and the following is his story.

I came across this fellow several times during this day.  The usual protocol when encountering a stranger is maybe a quick nod of the head and each party then goes their own way.  I would have been happy to stick with this, but I kept bumping into this guy seemingly everywhere I walked.  One very curious thing about him (or her and how do you tell?) was that “he” was picking up old shoe soles and sticking them under his belt.  Here’s another view showing this.

Truthfully, I was at a loss to explain this to myself and the best I could come up with for this strange behavior was that this guy forgot his collecting bag and had some type of project that required shoe soles?  I’ve already noticed that a lot of wayward shoes wind up here courtesy of the Ohio River.  If you don’t believe me, check out my special collections area under “The Shoes You Lose” and you will doubt no more!  I haven’t added images to either collection in a while, nevertheless the lost shoes keep on coming.  Just for kicks, here are a couple additional shoes I saw on this trip that piqued my camera’s interest.

Here’s another shoe found near the previous one.  See what I mean?  I could go on and on about the shoes alone.

After my first encounter with this odd character I ran into him near a willow tree by the river’s edge and he was doing the same activity as before.

This time I abandoned my typical reserve and engaged the guy in conversation.  I think I said something like,…”Hey mister, I can’t help noticing that you are collecting shoes and shoe soles and although I know it is none of my business…what are you going to do with the footwear?”  I further added, ” I see you have tucked a few more soles into your belt since I saw you earlier.”   The Sole Man (my mental designation for him) smiled easily from his green mouth and put me at ease.  I had nothing to fear from him.  We walked together for a while and he told me what his angle is and why he does what he does.  Spotting another lost sole in the sand, my new friend bent over and lifted it up.

Upon picking the sole up, the “Sole Man” flung it over his shoulder and said follow me.

We didn’t need to walk far.  The Sole Man had a spot in mind where he told me he was going to deposit his shoes.  In the full light of the sun he selected an area marked by two shattered plastic drums, driftwood, plastic junk, and the tell-tale white beads from Styrofoam that had been deposited here by the Ohio River.

One by one my new acquaintance dropped his shoe soles in his selected spot.

He told me that he does this as a form of meditation.  Seeing all the junk from our material culture wash up here at the Falls of the Ohio has bothered him for years.  He couldn’t understand why anybody would do this to the Earth?  Fixating on all the debris was just making him madder and angrier which has  its own consequences.  He carried these shoe soles here because he wanted it to be visible so that others might see and reflect as he had.

He hit upon the idea that collecting and carrying these soles might provide him some peace of mind or insight into his fellow beings?  Each sole was a record of a lived life with their scuff marks and pressure points compressed into the very sole itself.  The sole was a record of an individual’s life experience and no two souls were bound to be alike. The old adage about not knowing a person until you walked in their shoes hit home like never before.  I asked him was it working…making him less angry?  He said that it did.  His negative feelings were replaced with something akin to empathy for he understood that he was not much different from the former owners of these shoes.  It made him feel less “high and mighty” and more of an equal stakeholder for the many conversations to come.  After a few more photographs, I bid my new friend good luck.  Leaving him, I placed one foot in front of the other and headed for home on this hot day.

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