Bowing to the Mysteries, Photo by BradensEye of a suitable take on John Muir

Damn near everything may be cured with time in the woods. Stricken by any malady in mind or body, then take me to the sanctuary threshold of the great outdoors to collapse my drooping spirit. Those tv channels stripped of commentary and rather showing brightly colored vistas one after another of tranquil trees meditating instantly steady me. Napping rocks with blankets of water covering them soothe my soul. Simply standing in nature’s foyer results in transgressions melting from any boiling point my thoughts have made molten lava. In a world plump with uncharted futures and thieving powers surrounding, the soft eloquence of the natural world’s unknowns between the trees is a humble lullaby.

If they gave out degrees for floundering I would have a Nobel Prize post-PHD to feature in my CV by now. Though I still have a resume, I’m happy to say it’s not regularly used in my career history. Word of mouth has secured me many a job or task I’ve been paid to execute. If I was required to list every single space I’d ever worked it would be a chunky novel. I kid you not. This gal has worn a lot of hats, dresses, skirts, jeans, business suits, catsuits, corsets, yoga pants, and even worked completely naked one summer.

My real career has been staying alive. I’ve excelled with top marks in this profession. I’ve managed to manage myself through my own versions of headlining stories in our current culture’s woes: bullying, sexual harassment, male dominance, rape, lawsuits, stalking, cyber attacks, domestic violence, unpaid loans, stock market losses, more than a few money scams, all kinds of fraud, and your average John Doe dumps me (again) for the chick with whom he was cheating. I’ve steered clear of debt, jails, drug or alcohol addiction, DUI’s, and divorce. By most accounts, I’m a regular citizen just like you, not shattering any models.

But I want to exhaust those effigies! I don’t want to scrape by, but I will. I want everyone out of squalor. I pursue for good. In hindsight, I’ve splurged on living fully and in the moment to a jumbo extent. Inside me, halftime is over. The fireworks have exploded and my own Nipplegate-style days seemingly behind me, I remain gulping career options for a winning second half. Fish are known to flap about out of water, while I query about the day dolphins will walk on land to run our country better. I want to keep excavating me and this earthen home.

I find it can be an undiagnosed crooked pain how to fall mindfully through life. But such grief can be pretty. Chronic inquiry propels me onward. Walking through the doors of any trees is a cult of divinity. Shamelessly I’m accepted by the beavers and the bears, along with the babbling brook. Invisibly piloted ideas float upon all the breezes. Into this eloquent unknown, I lead as many new lives as the quest begets.

Between every two trees my reflection smiles back at me with vitality renewed.

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