The Challenge

The challenge that lies ahead is
abundantly clear but you nonetheless
forge on, recalling dimly the long-ago
past when as a child you welcomed
such challenges. It is abundant indeed
as you progress downhill entering
the ravined forest, and clear as the
ice you gingerly place your winter
booted feet upon. After all, it represents
your choice to enjoy a winter walk in 
the woods, knowing that to do so
requires a frame of mind accepting
of nature's terms. This can be viewed
generously as a test of your balance
of your acrobatic skills in negotiating
trails well trampled and sleeked with
ice, inviting the unwary to tread along
with undue haste. Well versed in the
ways and wherefores of the trails you
pace your steps maintaining an eye on
your little furry companions quite
untroubled with the kind of concerns
that you concentrate upon to avoid a
loss of equilibrium; their gait and their
four-legged advantage and spiky little
paws clearly demonstrating which of
you under the circumstances nature
has bestowed superior talents upon.

Doggedly

Extremely large and hulking is
intimidating. A dense shade of
black is intimidating. Dogged
persistence is intimidating. All
together, a sinister formula certain
to evoke trepidation and alert the
trouble-antennae of its minuscule
counterpart. This was, after all, a
Goliath of a dog, well-dispositioned
as its human knew, but of a curious
temper and the small black dog it
was curious about, crowding into
a corner, following, nudging, 
unwilling to leave off, suddenly
gathered courage to respond and
out of the depths of its throat came
a warning snarl ignored by the other.
The one-sided game of harassment
resumed, relentless tracking, the
frantic efforts to make himself less
visible a failure, the timid small dog
lunged, snapped and growled, a
David suddenly recalling his own
nature-allotted tools of survival.

The Story

You know those spine-chilling
Gothic tales that begin with the
lead-in: It was a dark and stormy
night and then there was a loud
knock at the door. Not quite that
kind though it was a dark night
albeit not stormy and it was the
doorbell that rang sending our two
little watchdogs into a barking frenzy.
And there stood a young woman/girl
asking were we interested in having
an estimate for lawn service; this on
a March night, our lawn steeped
deep in snow and ice. I asked
wasn't she cold and she owned her
fingers felt frozen. We had no need
of the service, but I wished her well
and told her to get in out of the cold 
as soon as she could, assuming her 
to be a university student trying to 
make some money. Now I am haunted 
by this girl out in bone-chilling cold 
without my invitation to enter and 
warm up or giving her mittens to 
cover her inadequate gloves.

Wry Revelation

How strange it is to be 
introduced to the prospect that
you are not what you have always
believed yourself to be, a tolerant
individual open to discovery
willing to examine and to trust
content that your consciousness
holds no untoward bias toward. 
That colour is meaningless but 
what does hold meaning is what 
is emitted from one's mouth
betraying an inner self through
unselfconscious utterances that
merely reflect a popular consensus
requiring no effort of thought
and guaranteeing social acceptance.
Free will dictates that individuals
make decisions that might better
be chosen after deliberation. 
You prize the liberty to observe
and make personal judgements
based on values held dear and
most often unexpressed. Taking
exception to thought constraints
convoluting reality as when
terrorists are referred to as 
paramilitaries, and it becomes
socially forbidden to cast the
aspersion of disgust at a religion
deemed one of peace agitating for
conflict identifying one as phobic
not realist. Take the puzzlement of
personal address reinventing language
in a confusion of meaningless pronouns
resistance to which labels one
distinctly hostile to human identity
crises. The smug certainty of lacking
prejudices suddenly laid bare as
a fiction when it becomes incorrect
to view others through the crystal
lens of immutable right and wrong
suddenly becomes a crucifix.

Winter Release

The narrow banks of the forested
ravine's creek are snowbound
in acquired layers over the
winter season's repeated and
frequent snow events when
wind-shifting billowing snow
blanketed the woods sheltering
birds and animals instinctively
preparing for the long night of
cold, some to migrate, others to
hibernate until nature repents
returning warmth and life to the
trees laid gaunt and bare escaping
the threats inherent in the three
partners of the season; cold, wind
and ice. Winter's resolve is now
on its fading downward slope
relentless cold and snow succumbing
to creeping warmth with the sun
gathering its golden promise
approaching the spring equinox
and rain begins to wash the snow
into a seasonal melt tunnelling
toward the forest floor to be freed
from its icy bondage as mist rises
over the tumbling, swollen creek.

Impressions

Somewhat taken aback that
someone you've never before seen
much less spoken with has chosen
you to be the recipient of her
feverish expressions of love and
dedication to nature, you watch
nonplussed as her arms, like windmills
tilting the frigid winter atmosphere
to tame the energy they express
matching in her boundless
enthusiasm to portray herself
as one of the original woodland
nymphs that surely inhabit every
forest, peeking coquettishly behind
trees (no...wait...that's her dog...)
smiling and emoting and frantic to
leave the impression of a diehard
nature lover, you politely nod and
listen, since this is the least anyone
can do to relieve the chance
encounter of the air of melancholy
such people bring with them. In her
anxiety to portray of herself the very
picture of Earth Goddess the woman
betrays her state of insecurity, her
dire need to impress someone, anyone
and that anyone happens to be you.


 

Epiphany

Disconcerting, is it not, when you
muse in the deepest recesses
of your mind of the peculiarities
of theories. Say, for example, that
a parallel universe exists of which
we are completely unaware although
its creatures and their business are a
presence alongside our own, each
unaware of the being of the other.
You turn over in your mind the
abstruse dimensions of such a
thought and the likelihood of the
existence of other lives sharing your
space albeit in a totally other
dimension, and suddenly you hear
the echo of an unfamiliar voice
in agreement. When you look about
seeing no one the voice begins to
sound familiar and you realize it
emanates from within. Can it be
possible that a doppelganger shares
your body; two souls in one dimension
within the body they share? Perhaps
that disunity within unity might
explain how it is that places you've
never before seen or things done
seem familiar; not your experience
but that of the other presence within.
Or that when you have the feeling
of being watched and scrutiny of
your near presence reveals no one
rather the sentinel is within. Those
times when you make decisions that
seem not your own ... edified?