An unusually warm May day had me out in the kayak today, early this year, in time to see the jellyfish bloom. I spent a while just floating and watching the moon jellies, and thinking about time and the persistence of the Earth and its creatures, and of what matters.
Got our kayaks out as well today for a leisurely venture on a local river west of Boston. Saw a resident pair of bald eagles at their nest (high in a pine tree) with their 2 (large) babies. A couple of pairs of swans and always the geese (one pair with the first babies of the season). Perfect weather and always cathartic! The problems in the world just fade away for a while.
What a beautiful medusa. I've spent the day in Petaluma, CA reviewing plankton data. I am fortunate to work at the Bodega Marine Lab, right on the Pacific Ocean, where the environment in all its beauty sustains me. Have a good weekend.
Thank you. I just started reading this newsletter a few weeks ago, and I find it is enriching in a very special way. Heather has a way of presenting incendiary topics that can be understood without throwing a chair through the window. Not that I am a violent person or anything.
Actually when I find a fly in my kitchen a guide to fly out the back door because I think of the song Never swat a fly, he could be a friendly guy. Anyhow I really like this newsletter.
Aurelia aurita- or moon jelly - that was the classic jellyfish that we were taught about in invertebrate biology. And they seem to have been here for many tens of millions of years. Unlike Homo semi-sapiens.
Thank you HCR for your photo while floating, and for your scholarship and synthesis of America's zigzagging in the precious Letter delivered to each subscriber six days a week.
On Living
Nazim Hikmet - 1902-1963
Living is no laughing matter:
you must live with great seriousness
like a squirrel, for example—
I mean without looking for something beyond and above living,
I mean living must be your whole occupation.
Living is no laughing matter:
you must take it seriously,
so much so and to such a degree
that, for example, your hands tied behind your back,
your back to the wall,
or else in a laboratory
in your white coat and safety glasses,
you can die for people—
even for people whose faces you've never seen,
even though you know living
is the most real, the most beautiful thing.
I mean, you must take living so seriously
that even at seventy, for example, you'll plant olive trees—
and not for your children, either,
but because although you fear death you don't believe it,
because living, I mean, weighs heavier.
II
Let's say we're seriously ill, need surgery—
which is to say we might not get up
from the white table.
Even though it's impossible not to feel sad
about going a little too soon,
we'll still laugh at the jokes being told,
we'll look out the window to see if it's raining,
or still wait anxiously
for the latest newscast. . .
Let's say we're at the front—
for something worth fighting for, say.
There, in the first offensive, on that very day,
we might fall on our face, dead.
We'll know this with a curious anger,
but we'll still worry ourselves to death
about the outcome of the war, which could last years.
Nazim Hikmet was born in 1902 in Salonika, Ottoman Empire (now Thessaloníki, Greece). The first modern Turkish poet, he is recognized around the world as one of the great international poets of the twentieth century.
You are so deserving of this beautiful time with Nature. There is nothing more peaceful. Have a good night. We appreciate everything you share with us.
Boy, have I felt that a few times in my life. I guess we're (my husband and me) not alone in appreciating the simpler joys in life. Rest well. Thanks for your diligence and vision.
May 14, 2022
Good job professor. I have learned from you, that history is measured in years, decades, and centuries. But life, i know, is enjoyed by the day.
You are so diligent and important. You deserve more days off than you take.
I love how by example, you give us permission to take some time off to perform restorative activities and get restful sleep 😍
Thank you Heather! What a beautiful photo of the jellyfish. I’m glad you were able to get out on the kayak on a beautiful day.
Yes--but don't forget: tomorrow is the Blood Moon and you'll have to stay up till 11:30 to witness it.
Got our kayaks out as well today for a leisurely venture on a local river west of Boston. Saw a resident pair of bald eagles at their nest (high in a pine tree) with their 2 (large) babies. A couple of pairs of swans and always the geese (one pair with the first babies of the season). Perfect weather and always cathartic! The problems in the world just fade away for a while.
What a beautiful medusa. I've spent the day in Petaluma, CA reviewing plankton data. I am fortunate to work at the Bodega Marine Lab, right on the Pacific Ocean, where the environment in all its beauty sustains me. Have a good weekend.
Thank you. I just started reading this newsletter a few weeks ago, and I find it is enriching in a very special way. Heather has a way of presenting incendiary topics that can be understood without throwing a chair through the window. Not that I am a violent person or anything.
Actually when I find a fly in my kitchen a guide to fly out the back door because I think of the song Never swat a fly, he could be a friendly guy. Anyhow I really like this newsletter.
Aurelia aurita- or moon jelly - that was the classic jellyfish that we were taught about in invertebrate biology. And they seem to have been here for many tens of millions of years. Unlike Homo semi-sapiens.
Jellies are so hypnotic. Enjoy the calm.
Thank you HCR for your photo while floating, and for your scholarship and synthesis of America's zigzagging in the precious Letter delivered to each subscriber six days a week.
On Living
Nazim Hikmet - 1902-1963
Living is no laughing matter:
you must live with great seriousness
like a squirrel, for example—
I mean without looking for something beyond and above living,
I mean living must be your whole occupation.
Living is no laughing matter:
you must take it seriously,
so much so and to such a degree
that, for example, your hands tied behind your back,
your back to the wall,
or else in a laboratory
in your white coat and safety glasses,
you can die for people—
even for people whose faces you've never seen,
even though you know living
is the most real, the most beautiful thing.
I mean, you must take living so seriously
that even at seventy, for example, you'll plant olive trees—
and not for your children, either,
but because although you fear death you don't believe it,
because living, I mean, weighs heavier.
II
Let's say we're seriously ill, need surgery—
which is to say we might not get up
from the white table.
Even though it's impossible not to feel sad
about going a little too soon,
we'll still laugh at the jokes being told,
we'll look out the window to see if it's raining,
or still wait anxiously
for the latest newscast. . .
Let's say we're at the front—
for something worth fighting for, say.
There, in the first offensive, on that very day,
we might fall on our face, dead.
We'll know this with a curious anger,
but we'll still worry ourselves to death
about the outcome of the war, which could last years.
Let's say we're in prison
and close to fifty,
and we have eighteen more years, say,
before the iron doors will open.
We'll still live with the outside,
with its people and animals, struggle and wind—
I mean with the outside beyond the walls.
I mean, however and wherever we are,
we must live as if we will never die.
III
This earth will grow cold,
a star among stars
and one of the smallest,
a gilded mote on blue velvet—
I mean this, our great earth.
This earth will grow cold one day,
not like a block of ice
or a dead cloud even
but like an empty walnut it will roll along
in pitch-black space . . .
You must grieve for this right now
—you have to feel this sorrow now—
for the world must be loved this much
if you're going to say "I lived". . .
From Poems of Nazim Hikmet, translated by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk, published by Persea Books. Copyright © 1994 by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk. Used with the permission of Persea Books. All rights reserved.
Nazim Hikmet was born in 1902 in Salonika, Ottoman Empire (now Thessaloníki, Greece). The first modern Turkish poet, he is recognized around the world as one of the great international poets of the twentieth century.
You are so deserving of this beautiful time with Nature. There is nothing more peaceful. Have a good night. We appreciate everything you share with us.
The jellyfish is so delicate it seems impossible in this same world there could be such a thing as humans at war…
Thank you Heather. Taking time to connect with what matters is important.
You deserve a night off. Thanks for all your good work.
Boy, have I felt that a few times in my life. I guess we're (my husband and me) not alone in appreciating the simpler joys in life. Rest well. Thanks for your diligence and vision.