log-a-rhythm seventeen

I fancy that a stick is a symbol for the Detachment of a dog. If not for domestication, the dog would have no significant interest in just a stick. Yet in times of abundant leisure, a stick provides some interest as a toy. Now, clearly humans too would have such symbols of Detachment. Examples abound in most modern marvels of invention, which gobble up our senses and time. Our sticks are not nearly as sustainable as the dogs'.

I’ve certainly found it to be a joyous occasion when I become detached from the Detachment. Barring desperate measure, one may only set the most attractive stage and hope for a cameo from the primitive self. To do this, we saunter into the woods. And then all of a sudden, it’s happening...

The sky is being ripped open. The thunderous eruption of the heavens rolls from one horizon to the other. The apocalypse is upon us. The atmosphere is being violently sucked into space with a vacuum force. What’s happening? Frantic confusion ensues. Searching for clues, I note Uwharrie’s reaction. Ears alert, ridge-backing, she scans for the source of the reverberating sound. She is doing exactly what I’m doing. We’re upset animals stunned by an alien invasion.

And then the moment is gone. The realization comes before the sound can fade. It’s a passenger airliner flying thirty-thousand feet overhead. And I find it fascinating and not at all silly. How long had I forgotten about those gizmos: five, ten, fifteen minutes? The quiet returns to the forest, Uwharrie’s hairs stand down, we hike on in silence.

These days, I'm looking forward, it's true. And backward, too. But most importantly, I'm trying to look now-ward! Being hung up on the past and future leaves me anxious and impatient, and I've got lots of hang ups. And maybe I've got all these hang ups because I hang on. I'm torn up inside. The forest is our salve, so too is the company of friends. My week's highlight: rocking out with Wilson the Rocker.

log-a-rhythm sixteen

The phoenix pleads:

"let me be, the winds are blowing."

But when she's gone,

there's no way of knowing...

Just how she is,

And where she's going...

Ahh, I love this place...

Imagine a creek: a continuous cascade plunging from the blue ridge escarpment...

And if you listen carefully, you hear the thunderous echoes from forgotten eons...

Yes, gravity rides everything. Yes, these are golden days and I'm burning alive! We're running, bushwhacking, exploring and most of all savoring a very special place known as Caesars Head. We will be leaving all too soon it seems!

thursday

log-a-rhythm fifteen

The Call of the Wild One

If you ask me, I’ll say I’m tired of the squalor. I learn more listening to leaves rattle in the trees than from all the channels of television. They are just illusions of windows to the world...

If you ask me, I’ll say I’m tired of the eroding path of progress over which our roads are paved. The noises have drowned our most pleasurable dreams of a time when we all lived as though each moment could change our lives forever (as each indeed does)...

If you ask me, I’ll say it’s time I speak my grace and care to the more pertinent matters of this child’s play...

~~~

These have been warm, sentimental days. I've spent them bushwhacking and running some. I breathe deep. I savor the flavor of the forest. It's treated me so well. Memories and dreams silently drift overhead like clouds. I've got the lyrics of Judy Blue Eyes echoing in my head.

It's getting to the point
Where I'm no fun anymore.
I am sorry.
Sometimes it hurts so badly
I must cry out loud
I am lonely.
I am yours, you are mine,
You are what you are
And you make it hard--

The lever in the corner that no one ever dares pull is merely a prop. There is no trap door. The whole room inside the whole building, inside the whole world, inside the whole universe is already falling... This is how I rationalize my most recent decision to soon embark on a grand new adventure.

In other recent news, Beduhnasaurus Rex put on a great 20 mile fun run tracing the Mount Mitchell Challenge course this Saturday up from Black Mountain. There was a great group of folks. At the parkway, we encountered a good amount of white stuff; enough of it anway to make some snow angels. If I'd went to Montreat College, I'd still be in school methinks.

log-a-rhythm fourteen

I'm in love with the moss and the air and the stillness of this moment. I fall deeper in love the higher we climb... We are in the Smokies and it's New Years:

We climb steeply up Baxter Creek Trail in the morning mist; 23 miles to celebrate the advent of 2007...

Eventually the sun joins in on the fun, and our spirits soar ever higher...

We rise above the red spruce atop Mount Sterling. Many familiar mountain faces smile upon us...

We decide to come back down. Down we glide to Gunter Fork Falls. This is one of my favorite places in the Smokies! We continue across a few memorable fords of Big Creek...

Each chilly crossing is preparation for the moment of truth! Here now is a video clip of a New Year's plunge into Midnight Hole...

Yeah, I guess it's a tad chilly in there this time of year...

However, the climate is sure changing... It's now Saturday. The Middle Saluda is flooded. Water gushes and dribbles relentlessly from precipitous lips, swallowed down the mouth and riparian throat of this dynamic gorge. I track the pathways of earlier explorers up an ancient rock slide. Between mossy stones, a diligent creek slowly chips away at its sculpture.

These mountains are moving. Somewhere here I pause and paint. Without a brush, I use my fingers to capture the scene. The whole place is falling. With the recent rains, entropy is set into motion felling a weakened pine giant in Jones Gap. Geological time bombs surround me. Outside this gorge, we must deal with much larger time bombs. The ticking is now too loud to ignore. Broken beer bottles and other profanities have bubbled up into this pristine place. Where are the reigns to this runaway wagon?

I guess I’m just galloping these days... The earth is crumbling underfoot and I’m treading water. If you asked me if I’m enjoying the ride so far, I’d have to say yes. This is a wild ride indeed! I hope you are well on your ride, wherever you are. Live well. My love goes out to you...