The Sunshine Observer: SO… V:69

Practical Life

Ah, it’s that time of year again when we wake to the not so distant sounds of gunfire in the wetland as the mighty hunters’ prey upon the stocked. Seasonally, a few acres north of us, the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife release the beautiful yet vapid pheasant to be shot dead, for sport. I’m guessing some eat them, although in reviewing the wildlife website I found nothing about nutritional value, or how to prepare them. Yearly 35-40,000 pheasants are released in Washington. It is heart cooling to know our tax dollars are providing opportunities to shoot and kill, for sport. Seasonally, the prey find their way to our 5 acres for refuge, although being dim-witted, they wander back into the kill zone.

Yes, I eat chicken a distant cousin… by the way have I mentioned a pheasant sounds like a chicken coughing into a can? And whenever they’re disturbed, they let you know it.


Pheasants entered my meditation this morning as I dreamily gazed into the wetland only to see just the head of the distinct bird rising from the tall grass 60 yards away. Although only 4 inches, something unfamiliar was in the familiar, a kind of reverse Where’s Waldo.

It started me thinking, we’re often hunting for something. We don’t always know what we’re hunting for, we’ll know it when we see it if we’re lucky. It’s part of the eternal restlessness some of us are plagued by.

Meditation can bring peace. Although sometimes I’m not feeling the flow, and force will not bring it.

Others hunt for my peace, it’s a conscious effort on my part not to let them have it.


Onto our 5-minute meditation following the phases of the Moon.

The waxing Moon increasing in light moving toward crescent.


Yesterday we meditated on a Hero’s journey. Heroes are ready to begin again and again. They remember yet forgive their past and show up bringing their best forward, releasing attachment to what may come.

Get ready to make magic.


We bring our fire, passion, & wisdom.
We bring all that comes from Love.
Grateful to what we leave behind.


The moon whispers to the trees as we say good night to the day