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Passing Through
Last week in America outside Dean and DeLuca's gourmet grocery in Georgetown on M street a man did howl, lamenting the world around him that lacked the common decency of respect. He threatened to break windows to even the score. We the passerby counted our good fortune and moved about with a practiced lack of passion.
In Israel a discontented Palestinian woman set off explosives at the popular Maxim restaurant, killing herself and 20 others, showing perhaps to what lengths a person disrespected can go. And the decapitated infant will not speak of passion unrestrained.
For the time being I seem to have removed all the sharp edges from my life but never underestimate the bedpost, the wonder bar, or the mud scraper, all things that can sneak up on you, put you inside the world of pain.
Yesterday, seeking evermore isolation, I drove up to Skyline Drive, inside that Shenandoah National Park, flashed my pass, responded sincerely and dull wittedly to the park ranger's question as to my destination and then listened as she patiently forgave my ignorance; she just wanting to point out that part of the park is still closed due to hurricane damage. I did not tell her of my often misunderstood default credo that has me, regardless of the various available dangers, going until it becomes painfully obvious I can go no more.
I took the south fork at Thorton Gap and drove a fair piece, parked, stepped over the rock guard rail and followed the foot path until it gave out at the first sign of difficulty. I only went a couple hundred yards past that myself, where I came upon a Flinstones-like easy chair. I cleaned it up a bit and then sat back to let time ease on by. I came to conclusion about nary a thing but felt none the lesser for that.
Walking carefully back up the hill I came to a bramble that was also a path of least resistance and entered into it.
Without the vision of it I felt that jolt of another's presence and stopped so to speak dead in my tracks. In front of me only twenty feet away was an 8-point Buck, sitting comfortably chewing his cud. As I had no weapon, nor would I desire one in this context, I felt somewhat disadvantaged, on someone else's turf, that someone with eight sharp spears on top of his head. For only two or three minutes I stood staring at the deer, momentarily wondering if he could see me; if I was there. A treasure trove of questions came pouring into me at that point, all of which I retreated from, just as I was going to retreat from this deer. He watched my circumnavigtion of his world and then, far as I know, went back to chewing his cud.
Later, back up here on the hill, in this world more manicured, I saw a young black bear lope across the property, its body language clearly stating, I come in peace, just passing through.