Calm of the Wild to Peace and Still


In an attempt to escape blogging and the internet for a time toward relaxation and peace of mind,  I  swim laps.  I go hiking.  I run.  I talk to animals like my cats, Mo and Socks,  an Andalusian horse, a big gray male roan with the softest velvet nose.  I play freeze tag with frisky year old bull calves in Hap & Jerry’s corral. Play chicken with them. They spook, hoof quickly, juke this way and that, then approach again, and again for more play.  These are like the antics of some nine year olds.  Like Jimmer and Boozer when they are released from a day long tether, unchained from the hay barn. They are excited beyond restraint, going a hundred miles per hour in their fly by  kamikaze rogue  criss-crossing along my jogging trail.

As with most wild animals, and some domesticated ones, it is wise to approach slowly, humbled with down cast eyes.  Silent, speechless, barely breathing, unassuming.  In time the creatures come in curiosity.  Little by little they sniff and brave  small nibbles at me.  If successful the Andalusian rests his muzzle on my exposed forehead in a horse kiss.  I am a bit nervous but hide the fear in wishing for a trusting encounter.

He licks my hand in search of salt.  I possess the salt of the earth and at times I am a miniature savior.   After one or two licks the bull calves are satisfied and step back staging  a cautious stance. From a distance, I can look them in the eye and lock into a  big black calf eyed gaze, maintain contact. I wonder what they are thinking. They are wary but steady somewhere between fight and flight.  This is amazing.  Is this trust? Or is this a learning space, a think time of wizened dumb?  I don’t know.

There is power in this kind of still.  Rare to humanity.  More common in Nature.  Unique to human wildland interface. Fleeting. Sought for as long as possible.  As long as no one makes assumptions toward crossing boundaries, toward harm.  As long as no one makes attempts of holding and owning what is not meant to be.

Danger is a real possibility.  Just ask my Pearl car.  She has a small dent and mother of pearl paint chip. This flaw is already gone to rust. One distracted dusky evening a buck bumped her with his muscular rump.  Tonight I nearly collided with a doe myself, in mounting the rise just before the church house. This is scary,  especially since Grandma got run over by one of these creatures.

Turning away from blogging and from the internet is a small start toward breaking an addiction, and taking control of my life.  A small start. Small as a newborn kangaroo in migration to a warm marsupial pouch of nourishment.  Amazing race to safety and sustenance.  At only the size of a jelly belly candy, somehow the minute naked, hairless, grotesque miniature being clambers home against all odds.  It is a miracle of design,  production, and survival bearing the name Hallelujah!  Most things start out small and grow quickly.  Some things do this and much more.

It is late….again.  Tomorrow is picture day at school.  Must sleep or if not, must pay big time.  Laws must be kept. In only moments I’ll be jumping into another new day, with or without a powerful new kite tail,  headstrong into March winds.  I march on toward sunshine and color.  Darn! I have fallen into the typing trap of blogging. Again and again. This time though, a bit better within self set limits. 🙂


About hrobertson2013

“Each man ( and mermaid) will be like a shelter from the wind and a refuge from the storm, like streams of water in the desert and the shadow of a great rock in a thirsty land”. Isa 32:2 NIV Warning: The author of this blog is not an ordinary individual. Even Mermaids need a rest from all that's real and grown up. Welcome to the wonder of blog. Come be audience to all that's wet and wild in her stories, poems and thoughts. Instructor by day, super hero by night, and mystical mermaid by summer. Whenever she has the fortune of diving into a pond, reservoir, or mountain waterfall, you'll find her there swimming, and singing songs of life.
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