Visiting Pinto Lake

At the shelter we were told that Oona and her sister were found wandering around Pinto Lake. I have not taken her there during the year we have had her but today we did. The drive is further then I remember and it is Saturday so it is crowded with people camped by the lake and filled with grackles chattering away. The lake has ducks and geese splashing in the water and Oona is ready to chase after all of it. I wonder if she is chasing after her past, if her home is in the scent but she is occupied by all the smells and stimulus.

Walking around the lake its shimmering presences is a balm in this smokey time and one of political unrest. It is hard to fathom the trust some people seem to have in this not stable man in office. I watched the snow job of platitudes and the plastic nostalgia of the evening and the premise of his being the people’s president. His daughter seems like a sorrowful character out of a Greek Tragedy and the blonde example of the master race that was so sought after in Germany. It is hard to not see the similarity of people being gassed, attacked and bombed in the midst of chaos and all the blame  falling way too often on the innocent swept up in a dark play of violence and need.  I wonder what will be chosen since a good many seemed to be duped by the drug of power and its influence then the quiet ripples of the water, the birds clamoring with one another.

Life is not just about being in nature but certainly we have ignored nature to a fault and relied on forces that have little to do with life itself and any rhythm even close to the nature of existence. Oona seems immersed in everything around her including stray bones left by campers that we rattle out of her mouth so she does not eat them. How to do the same, how to not pick up the stray bit of leftovers and consider them a meal.

It is a defining time ahead of us, a turning point in history where nature does depend on us not just our retirement plans. I wonder if the meek shall inherit the earth or if the loud fireworks and speeches and false beauty will fill the view instead, one big Ross for Less game plan.

We wander with Oona as she explores and utterly enjoys the park but she is fine about jumping back in the car and so I assume she has chosen to remain with us then seek out a distance past.

Years before I visited this lake because of a man that saw the vigil of the Virgin of Guadalupe in the body of a tree. I had been teaching in the area and stopped by after several students had spoken about it. There was a long line of prayerful people at the tree and I could see a faint mirage on the bark design move in and out of the shadows that day. I believe that the tree was cut down or painted over in the weeks to come maybe because it drew such a crowd and the Virgin disappeared.

I picture the devoted faces kneeling in front of this visitation, a small miracle out in the open air, on this cloudy day of shadow and light. I wonder what remains of this experience for those who knelt before the tree fixed on the man who found her with a face of open vulnerability and love.