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Old 05-13-2018, 10:02 AM   #1
mrhtbd
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Sanctuary or Strategy?

I’ve heard it called, “Active Rest,” a sanctuary of sorts, out and away, where one goes to rest, restore, retire or recharge, but with a mind determined to shirk off limitations and rise above the mundane, it can be nothing short of hellfire!
Out in the lush green forest, several hours now, I listen to the light rain chastening the fresh green leaves on the trees around me but evading me; I feel nothing. The hellfire within somehow evaporates the falling rain protecting me like a shield. The crows come and go, caw-kawing from near to bro, and though, thin whistles of song-birds pervade the space, all there is is not to know. Do I start a fire or fell a tree, throw a stone or pence a distant roe? Nothing is necessary here, just breath.
A thunderous jet roars toward me from the distance, have I been triangulated? Has my sanctuary been known? My cover been blown? Out here in the woods trying for peace? Never it matters, the device they seek is over the ridge and I the next valley. Thankfully never got the chip. And I’m never-to-mind about them, as the crows around me, silently watching and quiet, are quick to alert for intruders. Even the Blue Jay is finally silent. See, miracles happen. Now what?
Zen Philosophy teaches, “Quell the body to open the doors of the spirit.” Hellfire! “What is it burning inside,” I ponder, as I hear snapping of twigs to the South East? Indeed, one can seemingly “get away from it all,” but never shirk the hyper-vigilance. Is that the hellfire in me that never sleeps? As, even in my dreams I am challenged by forces of power, life and death.
Last night, in my dream, I was walking along an old dock as the waters quickly rose around me; submerging the former lawn. Then a strange dual-type cat (bigger than a Leopard) ran out of the trees and lept into the rushing water, then came out thrashing a large rodent, the size of a groundhog in its jaws, looked at me then ran off into the woods. It was actually 2 cats in one; part tan-spotted Leopard and part grey Panther. Part day and part night. Before dashing off it stopped and, as it looked at me, I noticed it had large green Panther-eyes; nighttime eyes; seemingly watching over me. Ancient people’s believed in spirit-animals being connected to people, as guides through life. I felt that, that was what it was. I had gone out to the edge of the land to get away from people, to get sanctuary, but was met with rising water and overcast skies pushing in from the distance; stopping me in a way, almost making me go back to face whatever “animals” lay in wait beneath the surface.
Many of the choices I made in life were sanctuary’s in part, then turned into anchors by the needs of others. These included the Military, mechanics, swimming, life-guarding, weight-lifting and Teaching. I got tired of carrying others, so eventually gave almost everything up and just tried to be alone, but the needy or lazy always found me. For instance, in Basic Training, during a medium-pack 15 mile road march from midnight to dawn. We were marching along in staggered formation when someone grabbed my shoulder strap. I spun around and grabbed his collar when he said, “Carry me!” I said, “What the hell is wrong with you, are you crazy?” He said, “Come-on, you can do it, you’re Superman!” “Hellfire,” I thought! He did have a point though, so I said, “Here, I’ll carry your rifle, that’s over 6 lbs, but you gotta stay right with me, no falling back because if the Sergeant see’s this we’ll both catch hell!” He finished the march and was thankful for not quitting and getting KP for a week. Actually the weight didn’t bother me, my rifle kept sliding off because of my sloped shoulders, and by having a rifle on each shoulder, I could hold the strap with my opposite hand and relax my arms. I guess help goes both ways. That was 38 years ago, but one thing hasn’t changed, the hellfire in me to break free, to make a difference in my own life, to separate from others and in my own way. I can’t escape it, can’t lift it away, drug it out, drink it away or sleep it off. Even in my dreams it finds me. That hellfire for being. There is no sanctuary from the rising tide of self. As I have scattered the ashes of friends, family, foes and riches, perhaps it’s time to become the evisceral cat, to draw from the depths of the possible, and place into the realm and the way of kinesis. It is the way of the nonconformist in me. That is my Concord. The simple life of sanctuary is never that simple, even for a fisherman.
So Thoreau then left the pond and cleared the dark of the woods for the light of day. He returned to the life of the city, because, in his words, he, “had more lives to live!” Now for a strategy out of this forest. Thoreau learned from his experience at Walton Pond to, “follow our intuitions regardless of how unusual those intuitions seem to be.” My only question then is: “Do I take the high road, or the low road?” Though both depart and meet at a fork. Well, to quote Yogi Berra, Manager of the Yankees, “If you come to a fork in the road, take it!”
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