Quite the Life (and all in Times New Roman 10pt!)
To survive in The Wild, one must pay attention.
Two-Legs pay selective attention. We devote the majority of our neural resources to whatever interests us at the moment.
Which is why we – the modern “we” – don’t do well in The Wild.
Pay too much attention to any one thing and some other one thing snatches you.
Pay too much attention to any dozen things and some other dozen things snatch you.
One learns to be broad-minded, accepting of all information, in The Wild.
It’s a survival thing.
Sometimes I realize I’m here to observe.
Authors…good authors…do little more than observe and document.
Note I don’t claim anything about writing.
Writing? No. Documenting? Yes.
Good authors…the best authors…are retellers of tales they’ve witnessed perhaps too often.
So often they make a lasting impression.
Although I know some lasting impressions only need to occur once to be etched in memory.
Such impressions are etched due to high emotional content.
That emotional content can take many forms: wonder, joy, pain, sorrow, grief, love, …
And sometimes that emotional content takes the form of appreciating what’s around you and realizing, “Yes, this is a good thing.”
Yes, everyone’s waking up from their winter slumbers.
Including Fibonacci, our most recent skunkly visitor.
Our association with Skunk started with Ferdinand and Larry.
Recently our neighborhood has experienced a plethora of skunk.
They let us know they’re about.
Unfortunately, it’s often after the fact.
Many of us have learned to be wary, to open our doors slowly, to look out our windows before venturing forth.
And to have a goodly supply of anti-skunk-stink available.
It has been a while since we saw Erasmus.
Ever shy, ever watchful Erasmus.
Knowing the expected lifespan of Coyote in The Wild, I know he doesn’t have many seasons left with us.
We are here for just a little while.
No matter how long one lives, there is always something older, me thinks, to mourn our passing.
Back in my preaching days, I realized there were few pains greater than a parent outliving their children.
Although not genetically linked (unless you go way, way back), I tend to think of all The Wild as my children.
I’ve learned so much from them. Not sure what they’ve learned from me.
The Old Ones‘ first lesson is to be wise and, seeing the world around me, I doubt many willing to learn that lesson remain.
I will mourn the passing of my children.
Who is there who’ll mourn with me?
Who will be left to mourn me?
Last week it was Rabbit, this week it’s Coyote.
Probably because it’s that time of year.
The Wild wakes (not that it ever sleeps) and everyone comes out parading their young.
Kind of like an Easter parade, don’t you think?
And Easter…that christian new life/resurrection thing, that coming out of the cave, out of the earth, out of death, the big sleep as it were…
Why do you think the church decided Easter coincides with Spring?
Everybody honors The Wild even when they don’t mean to.