July 10, 2017 2:31AM
I woke up with a start and looked at my phone 2:31. I still had a few hours before the M-F
grind would start. I had a good Sunday; kayaked, replenished the house supplies, cooked a few trays of food, loads of wash and cleaned. And yet something was nagging me and the fact that I was up with a start ready to roll was a definite indication that there was far too much activity going on cerebrally. My brain can be like an overactive child, afraid of the boogie man in the closet – only the closet happens to be a cluster of pockets in my brain that demand to have their say.
grind would start. I had a good Sunday; kayaked, replenished the house supplies, cooked a few trays of food, loads of wash and cleaned. And yet something was nagging me and the fact that I was up with a start ready to roll was a definite indication that there was far too much activity going on cerebrally. My brain can be like an overactive child, afraid of the boogie man in the closet – only the closet happens to be a cluster of pockets in my brain that demand to have their say.
The moon
cares not of the inconvenience for it only follows its ancient path.
Up with a start with nowhere to hide, I could’ve lit some
candles and retreated to an exhausting hot bath…but the damp cool swamp
breeze tempted all of me. Like a cat, I
drifted down the stairs and out the door.
There is a secret way to open the oppressive front door that is
completely silent. It swung like a dream
and the front grass and wet street were aglow with the archaic light of a
Thunder/Buck Moon.
It’s amazing how your being can remove you immediately from
civilization, as if it’s had enough and overrides your civilized self. So there I was; barefoot on damp grass, blue
eyes oddly catlike in their seeing and slowly savoring the night air. As the sounds of the realm around me settled
and triaged themselves in my brain, I was became aware of what many would think of as the screams
of a woman being tortured. I’m feral
enough to understand that these were not punishing intermittent blows delivered
by a jealous lover. They were the rhythmic
screams of a fox in mating. I smiled in
the night as the fox reveals itself quite readily to me at the oddest of
times. It was far off, behind the
tumorous strip mall, beyond the house with no purpose and to the glen in the
crook of the stream across the way. I
had the urge to call back, I also had the urge to walk naked in the shadows the moon had cast- both of which I viciously longed for, then vetoed.
Still human.
I decided I needed a reason to be out should anyone see me,
or mention it. An alibi? How absolutely ridiculous and delicious – but it’s where my mind was. There had
recently been sightings of tow trucks in the development and at $300 a pop for
24 hours (should they take your vehicle) and the impound a mere 7 min walk from
the development; I reasoned car keys would make sense. Back in I went and grabbed my son’s keys – he
is notorious for illegal parking. Keys
in hand like a shield, should anyone wonder what I was doing out at such an hour, I began to walk barefoot.
The concrete walk illuminated under my bare feet
from the moons reflection. I fell in love with the way my feet looked under that light - sure, sturdy, wandering. The sky was
clear and the backbone of the mountain past the swamp visible. I walked through the night, through the
neighborhood. I paused at the dark
quarry, silent like a quagmire crater of dropped and fragmented dreams. No movement; just black stones, black
water, and a drab landscape.
I walked through the common yards and noticed the garish light of some
forgotten TV’s. I recalled the stations
of snow from my childhood when the networks would log off, sadly nothing logs
off anymore.
But was I not doing just that?
I felt so oddly alone, yet so unbelievably connected to the
true realm; the billions of leaves that swayed an watched me, the ground with its
varying dampness and light, the earthen smells rising from patches of dirt, the
air and the intrinsic scent of still water, swamp water, dew, and
rain. The foxes tortured consistent
cadence, like music, screaming into the night.
I held the keys tight as I didn’t want to hear them clink. I did not desire not one human sound.
Earlier that evening I meditated with
intention for the full moon. Among the many
things that I wished to draw down and into my life was a sense of strong connection to the earth.
The night delivered.
It would have been better had I obeyed my
organic indigenous nature and bared not only my soul, but my white freckled
body and lay naked in the damp grass under that moon and breathed. I also intended land of my own one day. I know that is on its way….
However…until its delivery…
Still Human
