Vultures are one of my "muse" birds, so it absolutely delights me how your words and photographs here do such beautiful work of honoring their presence.
Steep ground! I stand back in some awe. I am reminded of 'sky burial', but I cannot come too close, even to heaven. My culture had me bury the young roe deer hit on her first venturing in 2020. It was Britain's first lockdown, and she was knocked down on my connecting road where I ran each day. Nobody would stop and lift her to a dump, and prosaically I did not want to pass by a couple of feet away in the weeks of her dissolution. And respect: the non-judgemental attention of buzzards and crows would not be sufficient.
Philip, this is a grand way to make your acquaintance and I am delighted. Thank you! I love your story, your wise response to the cards you were dealt, and I am so very grateful for the wondrous addition you've made to this shared meal of words. Bravo. And thank you!
The butoh dancers, I believe, cover their bodies in white paint, this to perhaps help enhance the intended personal interpretation of the movements they perform. Your metaphoric use of these unspecific dances here is exquisite David. Vultures, for the most part, (not that they are a common sight ere on my hill but not unknown), conjure scenes of scavengers at work, untidy, greedy, viciously tearing flesh from bone. Yet here, with your sublime imagery and prose you change the whole definition. "Their business is death" you say, and indeed it is, you make their death work not only beautiful but "their sacred work" which turns the mind to gods and goddesses, more to be revered than feared!
In ancient Egypt, vultures were associated with the goddess Nekhbet, you probably know already, Nekhbet was the goddess of protection and motherhood, and her association with vultures may have been due to their role in cleaning up dead animals, which was seen as a protective act. Other cultures believed them to be symbols of death, the carriers of souls into the afterlife. Perhaps this explains their "...silent ritual. Never rushed or cheapened by false hopes and too much talk..."
And now, of course, I shall be scanning high crags and sultry skies for such a wondrous sight too...though my chances are slim!
Exquisite writing dear David and your photography silences me!
Sometimes, especially with your writing, words embed themselves. Deep into my subconscious they go . I have watched Vultures for years, circling , riding the thermals, looking for the dead . When they are high above me , I direct my thoughts, ‘go away, nothing to see here’. I was blinded by their name .Their ragged, looking coat. Oh, and that scrawny bald head in a nasty shade of red. Heck , they really have no conventional ‘voice box’, no pretty birdsong, just grunts and hisses. Wait, I read my own words, I think, for the first time in my life, I am prejudice. (If only it were that simple, to call yourself out).
You tell a different story. And I listened. You have honored them with beautiful writing. Born for a purpose .
“I thank them for their sacred work, thank them for the painting they have created. They say nothing. They remain. Immoveable. Timeless. Stoic. Zenlike. Considered.”
You inspired me to learn more about them.
Cathartes aura, their species name, means “golden purifier”.
Oh I am so grateful for your wonderful essay and breathtaking photos of the vultures! I have been enamored of them since a few summers ago, I happened to be sitting on my porch and a few of them gathered in some dead tree branches by my house. Observing them closely, they just captivated me. They soar so gracefully, such strength and beauty. "Sentries, shamans," as you wrote in this exquisite piece. I saved it to revisit again and again. Again, thanks!
What a wondrous visitation, Marilyn. A gift to be sure. How wonderful that you chose to see it as such and that their visit opened up new rooms of appreciation and understanding. Thank you for choosing to pause here and share your encounter. I'm just delighted to be a part of this interaction. Thank you.
Reading this was like getting gut punched and loving it… your exacting words and images combine to provoke some deep understanding that is way beyond my ability to put into words, but is nonetheless experienced. I am grateful to be upon the receiving end of your gift. Thank you!
Cami, not sure how I rolled past your beautifully offered commentary. It stopped me in my tracks and I’ve been sitting with it for a while before writing back. Your note is a gift and your simile was so relatable. It is my great honor to make your better acquaintance. Thank you.🙏
So much within this write, this sacred, descriptive poem. So much to consider as your imagry-words allow me in. I had to look up "Butoh" not knowing anything, I confess, of this metaphorical Japanese dance form. I'm stunned and kind of fascinated at the powerful emotions the dancers evoke. And quietly, I expanded...
Your words make me humbled. I feel small and quiet.
Philly taught me to admire these giant soarers; you are teaching me how to look deeper into their role, feel more acutely their service. I like how you teach, how you stop time, almost, to describe what you observe & feel.
The muley deer tugs at my heart. You didn't walk away from the death of her without honoring her life. I am grateful for all of this poem, each word I followed and each photo---because I struggle so hard with experiences of death & dying, and my own vulnerability...
Dear, dear Toni, had a note, backchannel from Andy, Larry's old friend and Summerville neighbor. His words: "Beautiful...as always! I hope, someday, to have my body carried on by such birds!" showed one end of the same, wide spectrum that you exist within toward the other end. We each carry our grief and our fears in our own very personal ways. This is as it should be, quite apparently. And if/when we come to some place, some sense that our struggles weigh more heavily upon us than we would choose, that is perhaps a sign that we may no longer need the strength of our fears quite as much. We may be able to take a step, perhaps even two in a direction we desire more.
I love that you went and learned about 'Butoh.' It is hauntingly beautiful to behold. For several years a butoh company has performed a multi-hour-long exploration in Kubota Garden here in Seattle where musicians are hidden here and there in the woods so that music comes from multiple directions and the dancers then move in the water, atop immense stones, within wooded glades, at the edges of meadows. Few movement works have moved me more profoundly.
Thank you for finding ways, again and again to show up, to wade into the story and then describe your experience of it as a reader who looks into every shadowy corner and misses nothing. You bring gifts, unmatched and unmatchable to one who tries, again and again to thread a path of wonder and discovery that others might follow.
Gorgeous photos, David. I’ve seen much evidence of the departed in various stages of departing while traveling through and sleeping in empty back roads and forests in the van. There is so much beauty in what remains of a life and in the processes you describe here so well. I love the idea of the vultures knowing and, perhaps, discussing among themselves the nature of the passing.
It took me some moments to catch your gist. My curiosity captured, I continued reading and came to recognize the reverence with which you wrote. And how well you shared it with us.
David, I appreciate your sensibility and the way in which you express it.
One of the magical gifts of reading and writing is that implicit contract between the reader and the storyteller. We readers must sometimes wade into the deep waters with the writers, not knowing how it will turn out or if we'll like where they've taken us. But as readers that is our end of the deal. And as writers, it is up to us to respect our readers by letting them shoulder some of the risks, to trust them enough not to try to explain away all the mystery, or dumb it down to the point that their minds don't need to hold multiple possibilities in waiting, or wonder if we know how to get out of the mess we've seemingly created. Readers will almost always appreciate trust placed in them to suss out a few things, or when we don't save them from needing to hold their breath with us while some of the twists and turns in the story unfold. I'm so grateful that you hung in there, even when it was not apparent where you/we were headed, Susan. I have immense respect for such partnering and am most grateful for your insightful note. Thank you, Susan.
Beautiful photos! There was a vulture in the woods where I walk once for 3 days in a row and it made me a little nervous so for fun, I looked up "significance of Vultures" and it said a positive omen of new beginnings! After that I just gave her the thumbs up when I walked past.
Doesn't it often seem that our best teachers are those who teach us to be curious about the things that scare us, rather than more adamant in our fear of them? This is big work and I am smiling. Thumbs up, indeed.
Vultures are one of my "muse" birds, so it absolutely delights me how your words and photographs here do such beautiful work of honoring their presence.
Your note is a gift, Lainey. Thank you.
And may you encounter one of your muses one day soon.
Steep ground! I stand back in some awe. I am reminded of 'sky burial', but I cannot come too close, even to heaven. My culture had me bury the young roe deer hit on her first venturing in 2020. It was Britain's first lockdown, and she was knocked down on my connecting road where I ran each day. Nobody would stop and lift her to a dump, and prosaically I did not want to pass by a couple of feet away in the weeks of her dissolution. And respect: the non-judgemental attention of buzzards and crows would not be sufficient.
Philip, this is a grand way to make your acquaintance and I am delighted. Thank you! I love your story, your wise response to the cards you were dealt, and I am so very grateful for the wondrous addition you've made to this shared meal of words. Bravo. And thank you!
Good to meet you David!
And you come with some great recommendations, for sure.😊👍
The butoh dancers, I believe, cover their bodies in white paint, this to perhaps help enhance the intended personal interpretation of the movements they perform. Your metaphoric use of these unspecific dances here is exquisite David. Vultures, for the most part, (not that they are a common sight ere on my hill but not unknown), conjure scenes of scavengers at work, untidy, greedy, viciously tearing flesh from bone. Yet here, with your sublime imagery and prose you change the whole definition. "Their business is death" you say, and indeed it is, you make their death work not only beautiful but "their sacred work" which turns the mind to gods and goddesses, more to be revered than feared!
In ancient Egypt, vultures were associated with the goddess Nekhbet, you probably know already, Nekhbet was the goddess of protection and motherhood, and her association with vultures may have been due to their role in cleaning up dead animals, which was seen as a protective act. Other cultures believed them to be symbols of death, the carriers of souls into the afterlife. Perhaps this explains their "...silent ritual. Never rushed or cheapened by false hopes and too much talk..."
And now, of course, I shall be scanning high crags and sultry skies for such a wondrous sight too...though my chances are slim!
Exquisite writing dear David and your photography silences me!
Such careful, generous reading. I love what you wrote:
"you make their death work not only beautiful but "their sacred work" which turns the mind to gods and goddesses, more to be revered than feared!"
I am humbled by your friendship and your generous note.
Sometimes, especially with your writing, words embed themselves. Deep into my subconscious they go . I have watched Vultures for years, circling , riding the thermals, looking for the dead . When they are high above me , I direct my thoughts, ‘go away, nothing to see here’. I was blinded by their name .Their ragged, looking coat. Oh, and that scrawny bald head in a nasty shade of red. Heck , they really have no conventional ‘voice box’, no pretty birdsong, just grunts and hisses. Wait, I read my own words, I think, for the first time in my life, I am prejudice. (If only it were that simple, to call yourself out).
You tell a different story. And I listened. You have honored them with beautiful writing. Born for a purpose .
“I thank them for their sacred work, thank them for the painting they have created. They say nothing. They remain. Immoveable. Timeless. Stoic. Zenlike. Considered.”
You inspired me to learn more about them.
Cathartes aura, their species name, means “golden purifier”.
What a gift you bring here, Lor, your path, your willingness to enlarge your view of things, to help me and others follow along.
And then this: "Cathartes aura, their species name, means 'golden purifier'."
Now I am the grateful student...
Says the teacher to his student🙏
gorgeous everything: your words, photos, imagination and offerings of wonder
Not kindness David…. but truth of how it fell in me and stayed for tea. Thank you for your generous work
"how it fell in me and stayed for tea..."
I'll be rolling this phrase around in my brain all morning. Thank you, Alix.
I'm touched by your kindness, Alix. Thank you.
The understanding that all living things serve a purpose. Grateful for your words & photos.
Thank you, Poetry.
(love getting to say that sentence...)
😊
Oh I am so grateful for your wonderful essay and breathtaking photos of the vultures! I have been enamored of them since a few summers ago, I happened to be sitting on my porch and a few of them gathered in some dead tree branches by my house. Observing them closely, they just captivated me. They soar so gracefully, such strength and beauty. "Sentries, shamans," as you wrote in this exquisite piece. I saved it to revisit again and again. Again, thanks!
What a wondrous visitation, Marilyn. A gift to be sure. How wonderful that you chose to see it as such and that their visit opened up new rooms of appreciation and understanding. Thank you for choosing to pause here and share your encounter. I'm just delighted to be a part of this interaction. Thank you.
Blessings on the cleanup crew.
Amen, Sue!
Beautiful writing always. Stirring and otherworldly. I always feel a greater appreciation for life and this world we live in when I read. Thank you 🖤
Your note and your experience make me grateful, Emily. Thank you for such kindness.
Imaginatively descriptive. It dropped me into another world for awhile.
Music to any storyteller’s ears. I’m most grateful.
Reading this was like getting gut punched and loving it… your exacting words and images combine to provoke some deep understanding that is way beyond my ability to put into words, but is nonetheless experienced. I am grateful to be upon the receiving end of your gift. Thank you!
Cami, not sure how I rolled past your beautifully offered commentary. It stopped me in my tracks and I’ve been sitting with it for a while before writing back. Your note is a gift and your simile was so relatable. It is my great honor to make your better acquaintance. Thank you.🙏
So much within this write, this sacred, descriptive poem. So much to consider as your imagry-words allow me in. I had to look up "Butoh" not knowing anything, I confess, of this metaphorical Japanese dance form. I'm stunned and kind of fascinated at the powerful emotions the dancers evoke. And quietly, I expanded...
Your words make me humbled. I feel small and quiet.
Philly taught me to admire these giant soarers; you are teaching me how to look deeper into their role, feel more acutely their service. I like how you teach, how you stop time, almost, to describe what you observe & feel.
The muley deer tugs at my heart. You didn't walk away from the death of her without honoring her life. I am grateful for all of this poem, each word I followed and each photo---because I struggle so hard with experiences of death & dying, and my own vulnerability...
Dear, dear Toni, had a note, backchannel from Andy, Larry's old friend and Summerville neighbor. His words: "Beautiful...as always! I hope, someday, to have my body carried on by such birds!" showed one end of the same, wide spectrum that you exist within toward the other end. We each carry our grief and our fears in our own very personal ways. This is as it should be, quite apparently. And if/when we come to some place, some sense that our struggles weigh more heavily upon us than we would choose, that is perhaps a sign that we may no longer need the strength of our fears quite as much. We may be able to take a step, perhaps even two in a direction we desire more.
I love that you went and learned about 'Butoh.' It is hauntingly beautiful to behold. For several years a butoh company has performed a multi-hour-long exploration in Kubota Garden here in Seattle where musicians are hidden here and there in the woods so that music comes from multiple directions and the dancers then move in the water, atop immense stones, within wooded glades, at the edges of meadows. Few movement works have moved me more profoundly.
Thank you for finding ways, again and again to show up, to wade into the story and then describe your experience of it as a reader who looks into every shadowy corner and misses nothing. You bring gifts, unmatched and unmatchable to one who tries, again and again to thread a path of wonder and discovery that others might follow.
What a gift you are. Thank you.
Wow! This is beautiful, Toni!
“I did not know the departed but felt keenly the space her departure had created.”
…and the space your ever-attentive heart fills, alongside your butoh dancers.
I’m so pleased to know you were here, my friend. Thank you for making time and for letting me know…
Gorgeous photos, David. I’ve seen much evidence of the departed in various stages of departing while traveling through and sleeping in empty back roads and forests in the van. There is so much beauty in what remains of a life and in the processes you describe here so well. I love the idea of the vultures knowing and, perhaps, discussing among themselves the nature of the passing.
You wrote: " I’ve seen much evidence of the departed in various stages of departing..."
I simply love your way of describing it.
Thank you for weighing in with such affirming presence.
😊
Yes, as Robert says, "a fine piece of work".
It took me some moments to catch your gist. My curiosity captured, I continued reading and came to recognize the reverence with which you wrote. And how well you shared it with us.
David, I appreciate your sensibility and the way in which you express it.
Thank you
One of the magical gifts of reading and writing is that implicit contract between the reader and the storyteller. We readers must sometimes wade into the deep waters with the writers, not knowing how it will turn out or if we'll like where they've taken us. But as readers that is our end of the deal. And as writers, it is up to us to respect our readers by letting them shoulder some of the risks, to trust them enough not to try to explain away all the mystery, or dumb it down to the point that their minds don't need to hold multiple possibilities in waiting, or wonder if we know how to get out of the mess we've seemingly created. Readers will almost always appreciate trust placed in them to suss out a few things, or when we don't save them from needing to hold their breath with us while some of the twists and turns in the story unfold. I'm so grateful that you hung in there, even when it was not apparent where you/we were headed, Susan. I have immense respect for such partnering and am most grateful for your insightful note. Thank you, Susan.
Such a brilliant comment, David.
Beautiful photos! There was a vulture in the woods where I walk once for 3 days in a row and it made me a little nervous so for fun, I looked up "significance of Vultures" and it said a positive omen of new beginnings! After that I just gave her the thumbs up when I walked past.
Doesn't it often seem that our best teachers are those who teach us to be curious about the things that scare us, rather than more adamant in our fear of them? This is big work and I am smiling. Thumbs up, indeed.