People have been pointing this out for a while now, but I'm beginning to see that I am in fact very hard on myself. I look more at what I haven't accomplished and consider less how to think well of myself. And I'm not really sure what to do, nor am I looking for sympathy or advice. I just want to be, would ask for a little quiet to consider and accept this time in my life.
Lately I've been waging war. I've been picking fights with my mother, accusing her of not being happy with me as a daughter. I've been doubting all of my friendships. I dwell on what I consider my many failures. I've been having nightmares of long lost loves, times that are gone, haunts of the night that surface when my mind is free to envision what is most resisted during the day.
So I went into the mountains. Jack Kerouac writes of them as buddhas, as friend to man, but I don't believe this at all. I don't think trees or mountains are concerned about humans or our stories. Animals are different this way, they are more compassionate sometimes. It's not that the mountains are cruel or cold-hearted. They have energy, but it's elemental, powerful, grounding. Their nature is neither merciful or compassionate, nor is it forgiving. They exist, and are resplendent in their own majesty. They are not bothered or moved by the smallness of our stories. And maybe that is part of the reason I feel free in the woods, why when my heart is forlorn and sad I only want the company of rock and water and tree; they do not scrutinize my nature, my relationships, my successes or lack thereof. They just are, think not, and are effortlessly dazzling.But they'll take your life despite your experience, your intention or your love for them. Last night I got caught coming down the mountain in the dark, shortly after which I began to hear a low growl behind the trees. I had seen cougar tracks on my way to the summit, and was now faced with the reality of being stalked. There are species (the preying mantis, black widow spider, queen bee) that kill their mate, part of the natural process; similarly it seems those drawn into nature are answering the call of their great loves irrespective that maiming or death may follow as a result.
Trying not to run, which I imagined would incite the big cat to show itself, I continued my trek down the icy trail to my vehicle about half an hour away. I began to feel strangely calm and began to even enjoy myself, glad to have legs that could walk, hands that were warm in mitts, with the cool night air and beautiful trees all around me. I could hear the cougar rumbling and wondered how it felt in the trees and whether he thought I was terribly foolish; I wondered whether he could smell my fear when I in fact couldn't feel it any longer. I thought maybe because of this I would surely die. I felt so at peace, the way a drowning man feels warm bliss before his life moves away from him.
We all die alone, I thought to myself. Regrets surfaced in my mind. I've tried, little honest words bubbled up inside of me. I felt space between my thoughts and emotions that brought me to sorrow. I considered my life thus far: my passionate nature, my love for family, the many beautiful souls with whom I've crossed paths. I didn't try to see the cat or climb a tree or run the fuck away. The trail suddenly revealed my vehicle. I felt neither relief or regret. I took a pee, put my gear in the back of my truck, wondered whether I was being watched by the big cat, and then drove away.
Today I feel tired. And I also feel resolve to be kinder to myself. And maybe I'll start toting my bear spray around again.
Nothing had ever happened and everything is alright forever and forever and forever, O thank you thank you thank you. ~ Jack Kerouac
The song I was listening to this day of the cougar -- Soldier of Love by Sade
i adore you... your words are like my thoughts
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