Wondering & Wandering

Please, indulge me once more. And allow me to thank you all for the private emails and comments of support. As I write, I’m looking out the window at my horses. They’re teaching me again. Today it’s about the weather.

Each is doing what they do on cold, sunny days. You know, the kind of days where the air feels solid as it enters your lungs. A day like today, in other words. Blue. No, make that: Crystal blue. The kind of blue that seems like it’s been ordered. Or created for a photo shoot. Clear and blue and bright. And in seeming celebration, the horses turn their bodies to face it straight on. Their eyes gently drooping like a child fighting bedtime. Their frosty breaths rhythmically pulsing from their large nostrils. Looks of true contentment rule the paddock. Nothing else matters but this moment and the sun. Indeed.

But things are different in bad weather. Because the bad weather gets their ass. Sure. Why not turn your ass to the wind? Or the snow? Or the stifling summer sun?

And so it shall be for me today. I will enter the cold air of the woods and face the sun. I will aim for contentment. I will hope for peace. And I will turn my ass to anything bothersome.

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Like you, I have my touchstones in times of reflection. Gary Snyder does the trick. As does Ed Abbey. Or Emerson, of course. Musically, it’s been Patti Smith of late. Or Cat Power. Or Zoe Keating. I think I see a pattern. I read the old white guys but listen to the women. Whatever that means. Here are a couple of excerpts and a video for your reading and listening pleasure:

Patti Smith:

 

one last breath
the sky is high
the hungry earth
the empty vein
the ashes rain
death’s own bed
man’s own kin
into the wind
one last breath
hole in life
love knot tied
braid undone
child born
the hollow horn
warrior cried
a warrior died
one last breath
lick of flame
spirit moaned
spirit shed
the heavens fed
man’s own kin
grips the sky
and he’s gone again

- from “Gone Again”

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Gary Snyder:

I have an old friend in Montana named Tom Birch. He’s a philosopher, teacher, hunter, and backcountry rambler. When asked why he so liked going into the wilderness Tom replied, “Wilderness treats me like a human being.”

What?” I said.

“Yes. Treats me like a human being.”

I asked, “What in the world makes you say that?”

Tom said, “I mean: it treats me like an adult. It doesn’t try to protect me, coddle me, put up handrails for me, provide a policeman or social worker for me, adjust the heat, or even put out a pad to sleep on. And nobody knows where I am. For me, to be fully human is to be fully responsible to my own skills or lack of them, and to have the possibility of death always there at my right hand. Then, when you’re fully vulnerable and on your own, you know what it feels like to be fully alive.”

This is one of the clearest hard-core arguments for wilderness and for living on the wild edge that I know of. The Buddhists say, this is the way all of life is anyhow, we just don’t normally recognize it. Nature is not fuzzy and warm. Nature is vulnerable, but it is also tough, and it will inevitably be last up at bat.

– from “A Note on Reality and Etiquette.”

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And, finally, some music from Patti Smith:

Enjoy the sun.