Exiled in a Strange Land

Outriggers hit the water for an early morning paddle while the hummingbird observes her habitat.

The hummingbird was perched on the very same yarrow limb, facing inland. Each day when I walk to the corner for my morning salutation, we greet each other.

"I see you're waiting," I'll say.

She remains still, her needle-like beak pointing toward me. Sun rising behind her, I cannot see her eyes or finer features. She appears a silhouette.

After a moment or two, she'll flutter around performing her aerial dance, maybe circle me, then head out beyond the cliff over the water and back to her branch.

To her, this morning was like any other, save for the unusually fierce offshore wind that rattled every hanging object in our backyard last night. Election results had been coming in faster than expected and the timing of the blustering offshore seemed ominous.

My morning routine, which typically begins just before dawn in order to service Frida, includes quiet observation of the birds and critters and their routines. A family of raccoons might be crawling one-by-one into the corner storm drain for safety before daylight. Tiny wrens skitter around helter-skelter pecking for bugs and worms. Beyond the animals lies the major force of nature in our midst -- the ocean with its tidal shifts that draw from the moon.

I believe that the natural world around me stays in tune with the tides. The hummingbird knows more than I do. Frida picks up on these forces as well. We humans are so out of touch its ridiculous.

This morning the offshore wind coming from the land had a touch of warmth which means it's been hot inland. The surface of the bay was textured with mini peaks. Surfers like it because the offshore helps shape the waves, giving them a better curl, a hollow tube.

My personal hollow feeling based on results of our National Election last night seemed a smaller deal compared to my surroundings, from the hummingbird to the moon and beyond. We're all in this together.  Of course, as white hetero male on firm ground, I'm privileged. If I were an employed immigrant without the proper papers, I would be very nervous, even frightened. If I were a woman I would feel betrayed. 

Personal freedoms are at risk. What I write could well cause trouble. History shows that under dictatorships, writers are the first to go. Words of dissent are too powerful for authoritarians.

In my lifetime of nearly eight decades, I've only rejoiced over Election results a couple of times. I exiled myself and two daughters to a liberal enclave on the California coast 46 years ago, not knowing what that would lead to. I count my blessings.

Elections are like the tide: they rise and recede, ebb and flow. The ancients who studied such things unencumbered by the noise of electronic media and vicissitudes of modern life tell us that light is the other side of dark. We have reached a dark place.

This is inevitable before the light. Keep the faith. Take a walk in the woods. Keep the light shining within. A resistance is forming.

Note: This blog post was censored by Facebook for "breaking the rules." It seems that Meta (owner of FB and Instagram) fears retribution by the new order.