This we know: Earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth.  All things are connected like the blood that unites us all.  Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it.  Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.

-Chief Seattle

Four satisfying days we stayed at the lake house.  Close by the lake with the woods near at hand, the old growth oaks with a such a moss covered girth, towering into the sky, and the waves coming in to the shore moving sand, polishing stones, — it seemed obvious natural processes are the indefatigable

equalizer.  As a parent is responsible to always have the final word, the earth is our mother.  To her we all of us will return.  Also not to be forgotten, she is the disposer of empires.

Stopping by the Lazy Ballerina Winery, we decided to enjoy a wine tasting.  The Lake Michigan shore is referred to as the wine trail as the growing conditions are favorable for vineyards and wine making.  For a fee of $10.00 a tasting of five wines from the menu were offered.  It is a privilege to experience by the vehicle of taste, a way of life that is particular to a certain region.  Making our selections was challenging.  I have a “proclivity” for fruit flavored wine.  The proprietor who served us was an educator, a Spanish teacher.  We had a brief conversation about how learning a different language can transform one’s view of the world, and one’s sense of self.  I think tasting and learning about wine is like learning another language.  You meet people that you’d never otherwise meet, learn about their challenges and successes.  We purchased three bottles after the tasting.

Lately I’ve wondered how an individual comes to the point of succumbing to a cult-like obsession.  Does a major trauma occur?  Or perhaps is it gradual, a year by year erosion of the self?  The “break” usually takes the form of a religious missionary-fever, or as we are seeing recently, to become a follower of an aggressive and cruel political movement.  Could it be that an accelerating secular society, volatile livelihoods distanced ever further from contact with the earth, our virtual friendships a thin substitute for the real thing, becoming consumers of “stuff” that is quickly disposed of– all of that leaving us existentially hollow, with desiccated souls, “easy pickings” for a dapper, neatly coiffed politico who promises “salvation,” through a new manner of speaking and an exciting community to all who follow him.  One grabs a “Let’s Go Brandon” banner and leads the charge…

If I am right, perhaps there is nothing really to be done about it.

There’s time enough for another glass of Cranberry wine.

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Some photos of flowers planted on the bluff overlooking Silver Beach, in St. Joseph.  The sayings were featured on the long bar top where our wine tasting was conducted.  Some were quite profound actually.