Showing posts from November, 2011

small world, coyotes, running of the bulls, IZ,
salmon run, an empty park, fresh cup,
and George Washington and the axe

Sometimes when I’m camped in a nice secluded spot miles back in from the asphalt, the world seems to grow smaller. At such times ‘the world’ is easily defined and it’s boundaries clear. I can feel this when Nature is coming on strong. Maybe I’m running down a trail trying to get back to camp as the clouds are darkening and there’s the sound of thunder off in the distance. Or I’m in my camper as the wind is screaming like a banshee or it’s pouring buckets. The same feeling exists at more gentle times. I might be sitting around a small fire, taking a mug-walk, a bowl-walk, out walking with M&M, sitting under the awning during a warm summer drizzle, or sitting inside watching the snow. Sometimes it’s more sensory. It could be the fragrance of the sage I threw on the fire or the feel of an early morning fog lifting off a glass-smooth pond, the call of an owl or coyote. I can open up to the rhythms and tempo of the natural world—sunrises and sunsets, moonrise, the sound of the wind in