The thick foliage made it difficult to move forward. How had the old woman gotten through this tangle of vines, leaves, and bushes? Roots seemed to rise up and catch at my feet, sending me sprawling onto the moist forest floor. It was as if the trees had closed ranks behind her to keep me from learning any more from her.
As the sun rose I could see more around me, though all was done in shades of green and brown. As I pulled yet another creeping vine from my face a bright yellow bird flew before me, making excited little noises before lighting on a branch above a small clearing. At the center stood a wonder such as my poor words cannot describe. It was a small plant, at least compared to the massive trees around me, with dark green leaves. The real wonder was the single flower perched in the center. It was of the purest white, and it shone as if the sun itself had been captured within.
I was filled with joy as I saw it, so much that I wanted to weep. I took one hesitant step forward. At that moment the bird sounded a single piercing note that I felt like an arrow through my heart. My vision blurred with tears, I took another step and began to feel the air about me tremble with a soft vibration. Another step forward and it filled the clearing, echoing off the massive trunks that surrounded me. Now I was right upon the flower and I reached out towards its perfect beauty.
All was dark.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
One: Four
I thought to follow her, but she had vanished so quickly I had no way of knowing which direction to choose. I sat in her spot at the roots of the willow, pondering my fate. A wind rose in the trees, causing the birds to squawk and twitter noisily. The air seemed heavier, and darkness soon descended on my lonely shelter. I hunkered down among the roots, hoping sleep would come to me soon.
Some time deep in the night I awoke. I could see little, though all around me there were patches of yellow-green light. Foxfire. The word came to my mind, though I knew not where I had heard it. While I marveled at the sight, I noticed too that there was no sound in the forest. The wind had died down and the heaviness to the air pressed against me. There was a brief flicker of light, followed a few moments later by a low rumble.
Tock. Something had struck a leaf overhead. Tock, tock-tock, tock. More sounds. Now I felt a wet trickle on the back of my neck. Then all at once a great rush of water from the sky, a jagged flash of cold light and a mighty roar overhead that shook the earth beneath me. I curled up within the roots, fearful that some mythical beast was stalking me for the kill. The rain fell in torrents, soaking me through my thin clothing. I could do nothing but close my eyes and wait the storm out.
The rain fell for many hours before finally fading away, the rumbling in the sky now far off. Water dripped lazily from the leaves above, and the stream feeding the small pool nearby gurgled busily. I shivered in my wet clothing, but soon exhaustion took me again and I fell into a dreamless sleep.
Some time deep in the night I awoke. I could see little, though all around me there were patches of yellow-green light. Foxfire. The word came to my mind, though I knew not where I had heard it. While I marveled at the sight, I noticed too that there was no sound in the forest. The wind had died down and the heaviness to the air pressed against me. There was a brief flicker of light, followed a few moments later by a low rumble.
Tock. Something had struck a leaf overhead. Tock, tock-tock, tock. More sounds. Now I felt a wet trickle on the back of my neck. Then all at once a great rush of water from the sky, a jagged flash of cold light and a mighty roar overhead that shook the earth beneath me. I curled up within the roots, fearful that some mythical beast was stalking me for the kill. The rain fell in torrents, soaking me through my thin clothing. I could do nothing but close my eyes and wait the storm out.
The rain fell for many hours before finally fading away, the rumbling in the sky now far off. Water dripped lazily from the leaves above, and the stream feeding the small pool nearby gurgled busily. I shivered in my wet clothing, but soon exhaustion took me again and I fell into a dreamless sleep.
Friday, July 1, 2011
One: Three
"Late for what?"
A breeze stirred the branches of the willow and I thought I heard the sound of soft laughter in its leaves. The old woman said nothing, but only looked at me impassively, as if sizing me up. I picked up the sack at my feet and tried to guess what might be inside.
"What is this?", I asked.
"Well it's a big, slimy snake that will eat you up, isn't it?", she said with a gleam in her eye.
I shook the sack but nothing seemed to be moving within, so I emptied it on the ground. There before me lay a small loaf of bread, a cloth-wrapped cheese, and an apple. I remembered suddenly how hungry I was and spent awhile tearing into the bread and taking bites of cheese between mouthfuls of the soft loaf. I pocketed the apple for later. When I had finished my simple meal I drank from the pool and sat back to watch the old woman.
"Thank you", I said.
"A small thing, lad. You have a long journey ahead of you."
"Do you know me?"
"I know that I had to be here now to give you what you needed. And now I will go. The light is fading and these old bones have to rest."
With that she rose from the roots of the willow and turned to go.
"Wait! Where am I going? I don't even know who I am! Can't you help me?"
The old woman turned back toward me slowly. She looked up into the high trees and pointed toward the green canopy above.
"The birds know. When you need answers you can always ask them."
She smiled slightly at this and shuffled slowly into the ferns, the sound of her footsteps gone as she vanished.
A breeze stirred the branches of the willow and I thought I heard the sound of soft laughter in its leaves. The old woman said nothing, but only looked at me impassively, as if sizing me up. I picked up the sack at my feet and tried to guess what might be inside.
"What is this?", I asked.
"Well it's a big, slimy snake that will eat you up, isn't it?", she said with a gleam in her eye.
I shook the sack but nothing seemed to be moving within, so I emptied it on the ground. There before me lay a small loaf of bread, a cloth-wrapped cheese, and an apple. I remembered suddenly how hungry I was and spent awhile tearing into the bread and taking bites of cheese between mouthfuls of the soft loaf. I pocketed the apple for later. When I had finished my simple meal I drank from the pool and sat back to watch the old woman.
"Thank you", I said.
"A small thing, lad. You have a long journey ahead of you."
"Do you know me?"
"I know that I had to be here now to give you what you needed. And now I will go. The light is fading and these old bones have to rest."
With that she rose from the roots of the willow and turned to go.
"Wait! Where am I going? I don't even know who I am! Can't you help me?"
The old woman turned back toward me slowly. She looked up into the high trees and pointed toward the green canopy above.
"The birds know. When you need answers you can always ask them."
She smiled slightly at this and shuffled slowly into the ferns, the sound of her footsteps gone as she vanished.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
One:Two
The green ferns seemed to go on forever. With no idea where I was going I began to lose hope. My skin was hot and irritated by scratches from branches and thorns. The hunger in my stomach and soul were painful, and thirst consumed me. The world was now no more than heat, the sounds of the forest, and my own labored breath. My vision became blurred and I fell heavily to the ground, weeping into the warm moss.
For how long I lay there I do not know, but soon I heard the faint sound of water. I dragged my weary body up to a tall tree and propped myself against it, trying to discover the source of the sound.
Now it came to me more clearly, and I raised myself up and stumbled, half-blind, through the stalks and leaves in the hope of finding water. Each plant seemed to reach for me, tearing into my flesh. I grunted and moaned while the oppressive heat seared my thoughts. The sound of the water became my sole focus. If I could only reach it I would be saved. I burst suddenly into a clearing and before I could stop myself I pitched forward into a pool of clear, cool water.
I was coughing and spluttering, the shock of cold taking my breath away. As I fought to keep from drowning I saw an old woman sitting on the far bank within the roots of an ancient willow. Her dress was plain and she had a small sack by her side. She eyed me closely but said nothing as I thrashed about. When I had finally had my fill to drink and the cold had become bearable I waded back to my side of the pool and sat upon the pebbled shore. The old woman picked up the sack and tossed it at my feet.
"You're late," she said.
For how long I lay there I do not know, but soon I heard the faint sound of water. I dragged my weary body up to a tall tree and propped myself against it, trying to discover the source of the sound.
Now it came to me more clearly, and I raised myself up and stumbled, half-blind, through the stalks and leaves in the hope of finding water. Each plant seemed to reach for me, tearing into my flesh. I grunted and moaned while the oppressive heat seared my thoughts. The sound of the water became my sole focus. If I could only reach it I would be saved. I burst suddenly into a clearing and before I could stop myself I pitched forward into a pool of clear, cool water.
I was coughing and spluttering, the shock of cold taking my breath away. As I fought to keep from drowning I saw an old woman sitting on the far bank within the roots of an ancient willow. Her dress was plain and she had a small sack by her side. She eyed me closely but said nothing as I thrashed about. When I had finally had my fill to drink and the cold had become bearable I waded back to my side of the pool and sat upon the pebbled shore. The old woman picked up the sack and tossed it at my feet.
"You're late," she said.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
One: One
When my eyes were opened I thought at first that I was blind. The air was warm and still around me, and I could hear the faint sounds of small creatures scratching and moving through dried leaves. Bird calls echoed over my head. I was afraid, for I knew not who or where I was. I was joyful, for no reason other than my freedom.
As I sat, a soft greenish light began to illuminate the space around me. I saw that I was in a great forest, with trees arching hundreds of feet above me and ferns closer by massed and marching off into the distant wood.
I did not know where to go from the log upon which I sat, but a hunger soon rose in me. Not just for food but a hunger to know more. Without a map or compass, I rose and waded through the greenery in search of answers...
As I sat, a soft greenish light began to illuminate the space around me. I saw that I was in a great forest, with trees arching hundreds of feet above me and ferns closer by massed and marching off into the distant wood.
I did not know where to go from the log upon which I sat, but a hunger soon rose in me. Not just for food but a hunger to know more. Without a map or compass, I rose and waded through the greenery in search of answers...
Friday, March 11, 2011
Time in a Bottle
"But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them..."
Over the last few years I have become aware that no matter how "young at heart" I feel, Time the Avenger is beginning to whistle his tune on a park bench somewhere in my neighborhood. As of this writing I am 54 years...old, but in fine health and good spirits. Good job, great family, own my house (in loose cooperation with The Bank, of course), and lots of fun things to do on the side.
Yet still strange thoughts have entered my cranium: I am a small boy in Connecticut and I am watching a young woman (Mom?) hanging the wash out to dry on a square clothes hanger outdoors. I can smell the clean, damp linen as it snaps in the cool breeze, hear the slight creak of each wooden clothespin as she attaches more items to the lines. The sky is impossibly blue, studded with puffy white clouds.
The woman is happy at her work, and she smiles at me from time to time. It must be Mom. that's the face that keeps popping in there. I am sitting on the green, green grass, thinking only of the very moment I keep remembering. The whole scene is barely five minutes or so but I could watch it for hours.
It occurs to me that this may be the last image I see before the guy with the scythe beckons me to The Other Side.
And that's.....OK.
Over the last few years I have become aware that no matter how "young at heart" I feel, Time the Avenger is beginning to whistle his tune on a park bench somewhere in my neighborhood. As of this writing I am 54 years...old, but in fine health and good spirits. Good job, great family, own my house (in loose cooperation with The Bank, of course), and lots of fun things to do on the side.
Yet still strange thoughts have entered my cranium: I am a small boy in Connecticut and I am watching a young woman (Mom?) hanging the wash out to dry on a square clothes hanger outdoors. I can smell the clean, damp linen as it snaps in the cool breeze, hear the slight creak of each wooden clothespin as she attaches more items to the lines. The sky is impossibly blue, studded with puffy white clouds.
The woman is happy at her work, and she smiles at me from time to time. It must be Mom. that's the face that keeps popping in there. I am sitting on the green, green grass, thinking only of the very moment I keep remembering. The whole scene is barely five minutes or so but I could watch it for hours.
It occurs to me that this may be the last image I see before the guy with the scythe beckons me to The Other Side.
And that's.....OK.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Courage
"But I could show my prowess, be a lion not a mou-ess
If I only had the nerve."
Throughout my life I have considered myself to be a peaceful person. I do not go looking for trouble and tend to try to negotiate my way out of it when it finds me. As a kid I was bullied pretty regularly and that made life hellish at times but I learned to stay within myself and escape into the solace of literature. Sometimes it would be a classical work like Huckleberry Finn and other times I'd just read the first book I put my hand on at the school library. I spent many happy hours perched in the maple tree in the corner of our yard, letting the warm breezes of summer gently rock the leafy cradle that was my refuge.
One of my first friends there in Vienna was Billy, the kid across the street. Funny thing was, he was known as the neighborhood tough guy, but he never bullied me once. Even when the other kids on the 'hood were exploiting my pacifist nature, Billy was a true buddy. We even started smoking together at the age of 11. What a pal!
While I did get my butt kicked from time to time, there were also some key moments that stood out in my life as Underdog:
About age 8 in Rhode Island one of the local bullies decided now was the time to smack me around a bit right outside my own house. He advanced on me and tried to get me to the ground, but I lunged at him and pushed him into the neighbor's flower bed. Almost immediately he began screaming and flapping his arms then ran off home, never to be a bother to me again. I had, by sheer strike of luck, pushed him into a wasps' nest. Score one for the little guy!
When I was 11 years old I was at the local elementary school blacktop shooting hoops with a buddy. Enter Billy Ray Chappell, the redneck-est creep from the other side of the tracks. He started taunting me and roughing me up, finally reaching out and boxing my ears. I stood there for half a second, blinded by tears with my ears ringing and swung my fist at his face. I fully expected to be beaten to a pulp, but Billy Ray just walked away, his nose streaming blood. Lucky punch? Can't argue with results.
One day in Virginia my sister Leslie was with a girlfriend walking not far from our house. I was across a field from them and noticed a couple of boys giving them a hard time. Without even thinking of the consequences I ran over to them and stood between them and the girls, skinny little wimp that I was. And they actually backed down.
The list goes on. At different times in my life I've found the spark of courage that pulled me through. But nothing prepared me for how difficult it would be to be patient and forgiving with myself and the people closest to me.
After Lani and I divorced my two older kids and I embarked on a difficult journey. At first it was all weekend visits and going to the park, ice cream and watching movies together. But as circumstances changed so did our relationships. The emotional tug of war that always seems to surface in these affairs began to take its toll on the trust between us. The dysfunctional crap that I couldn't let go of from years before paralyzed me emotionally and instead of stepping up I stepped back, torturing myself for being so weak.
This caused the inevitable results: My kids grew tired of the act. It all came to a head in late 2005 when Jess sent me a scathing letter that confirmed everything I already knew about myself. I tried to talk to Peter about it but it was a total cock-up and only made that situation worse as well.
How do these things relate? It's easier to face down an armed bank robber than to step forward and admit the worst about yourself, finding redemption through patience and true love. A good friend of mine just lost a buddy. He posted on Facebook, reminding us all to always let the people in our lives know just how special they are to us every day.
It's just that easy and just so hard. But instead of dithering and worrying about it, I will have the courage to tell them all that I love them so very much.
If I only had the nerve."
Throughout my life I have considered myself to be a peaceful person. I do not go looking for trouble and tend to try to negotiate my way out of it when it finds me. As a kid I was bullied pretty regularly and that made life hellish at times but I learned to stay within myself and escape into the solace of literature. Sometimes it would be a classical work like Huckleberry Finn and other times I'd just read the first book I put my hand on at the school library. I spent many happy hours perched in the maple tree in the corner of our yard, letting the warm breezes of summer gently rock the leafy cradle that was my refuge.One of my first friends there in Vienna was Billy, the kid across the street. Funny thing was, he was known as the neighborhood tough guy, but he never bullied me once. Even when the other kids on the 'hood were exploiting my pacifist nature, Billy was a true buddy. We even started smoking together at the age of 11. What a pal!
While I did get my butt kicked from time to time, there were also some key moments that stood out in my life as Underdog:
About age 8 in Rhode Island one of the local bullies decided now was the time to smack me around a bit right outside my own house. He advanced on me and tried to get me to the ground, but I lunged at him and pushed him into the neighbor's flower bed. Almost immediately he began screaming and flapping his arms then ran off home, never to be a bother to me again. I had, by sheer strike of luck, pushed him into a wasps' nest. Score one for the little guy!
When I was 11 years old I was at the local elementary school blacktop shooting hoops with a buddy. Enter Billy Ray Chappell, the redneck-est creep from the other side of the tracks. He started taunting me and roughing me up, finally reaching out and boxing my ears. I stood there for half a second, blinded by tears with my ears ringing and swung my fist at his face. I fully expected to be beaten to a pulp, but Billy Ray just walked away, his nose streaming blood. Lucky punch? Can't argue with results.
One day in Virginia my sister Leslie was with a girlfriend walking not far from our house. I was across a field from them and noticed a couple of boys giving them a hard time. Without even thinking of the consequences I ran over to them and stood between them and the girls, skinny little wimp that I was. And they actually backed down.
The list goes on. At different times in my life I've found the spark of courage that pulled me through. But nothing prepared me for how difficult it would be to be patient and forgiving with myself and the people closest to me.
After Lani and I divorced my two older kids and I embarked on a difficult journey. At first it was all weekend visits and going to the park, ice cream and watching movies together. But as circumstances changed so did our relationships. The emotional tug of war that always seems to surface in these affairs began to take its toll on the trust between us. The dysfunctional crap that I couldn't let go of from years before paralyzed me emotionally and instead of stepping up I stepped back, torturing myself for being so weak.
This caused the inevitable results: My kids grew tired of the act. It all came to a head in late 2005 when Jess sent me a scathing letter that confirmed everything I already knew about myself. I tried to talk to Peter about it but it was a total cock-up and only made that situation worse as well.
How do these things relate? It's easier to face down an armed bank robber than to step forward and admit the worst about yourself, finding redemption through patience and true love. A good friend of mine just lost a buddy. He posted on Facebook, reminding us all to always let the people in our lives know just how special they are to us every day.
It's just that easy and just so hard. But instead of dithering and worrying about it, I will have the courage to tell them all that I love them so very much.
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