Rocky Run: Spring in Pause

I made my first ever bird watching excursion today. With reluctantly talented Ultimate-playing friend of mine--his was the inspiration to wander a bit of Columbia county--I ranged a small DNR property in search of birds. Ostensibly, that is. Really we were there to witness Spring in pause.

It was an uncertain moment when the buds of the trees, skunk cabbage, and flowers were poking briefly through the plane that divides this world from the one whence they come. There was not that explosive feeling that we will have in southern Wisconsin in a few days or so. Instead, it was an extended pause right before that burst of technicolored florescence that we celebrate so dearly every year. There was little movement. Not much wind, not much scampering, not even much flitting or buzzing.

There was pause. It was almost as if the place was stunned by the sudden relief from winter. The tentative land reflected what I have seen in many faces around these parts: the trauma of extended, deep winter. I was not here for this year's freeze, but it is seems to be legendary already.

The walk was good. The birds were scarce. Though, I think my first outing yielded a rare spotting. According to Sibley, the black vulture is rare 'round here and I believe we saw one circling a world about to be born. Odd that a death eater would mark what looks to be Spring.

We wandered down to the creek and took a short dip in the flood run-off that was rushing by slightly chilled but balmy compared to Himalayan glacial melt. It was good.

The nagas seemed to be happy.

Going back to Cali

Here I am in Glen Park on the south side of San Francisco wondering exactly what just happened to me. Yesterday I was in Nepal, easting breakfast with fantastic people, holding back the fruit of separation from them. Now, I am in a coffee shop bardo across the street from the BART station wondering why this corner looks so much like Madison.

The journey back has exacerbated a small, friendly alienation I feel as a "'Merican." I had several interactions with people in those flawless transnational realms of Suvarnabhumi, Narita, and SFO. Folks seemed to be unable to guess that I was from the United States. Either that or they were humoring me.

Being from the states has a wealth of privileges, but I am unsure just how valuable those are. Materially, sure, but I cannot escape the feeling that there is something very wrong with those privileges.

Who am I kidding. I know there is something wrong with them. We have them because others do not.