"It doesn't matter what path you take, you will pay for that path. Thats just how it is. So do what's good for your soul." - Dick Dorworth, Ski Bum

Held in the palm of great hands... Rocky peaks curling up around us like fingers. I opened myself wide and lifted my arms to the sky, "Haaaa-Haa.... This is sooo Fantastic!!" Nods of agreement from faces chewing on turkey sandwiches and Doritos. We were led there by a snow-covered path, hugged by trees. The short 2-1/2 mile in was made to seem even shorter by the distraction of the blissfully chaotic nature of our family gatherings. Eight and a half people (my infant neice is the 1/2) and nine dogs plodding through the woods. All of the barking and playing and keeping together of dogs; all of the laughter and rough-housing and easy conversation.... Everything that is being together in this family carried into a scene of breath-taking beauty.

"How many of us will there be for dinner?" I had asked a few days before.
"Only eleven." Was the reply from my Mom.
"Honestly, how many families can say 'ONLY eleven for dinner' with a straight face?"
"Well, it's usually twice that or more."
"I know, I know... I'm saying it's really great to have such a big family. Those other 12 or 13 people... and as many dogs will be missed."

And they were. I hope everyone's holiday was full of warmth and laughter.
Cheers.

Later that evening, I went to the Catie Curtis show. Her opening act was a guy named Mark Erelli. The second song that Mark sang was about growing up in a wooded area, and how the loggers came in and clear cut the whole thing, and some big developer built some depressingly monstrous housing development on it. He talked about how he fought it all summer, but in the end he couldn’t stop them. “All for a buck, they cut down all those trees. They subdivided all of my fondest memories.” My eyes got soggy again as I pictured my view on the mountain side the previous day covered in split-level, single family houses with central air conditioning and three-car garages.

The thing is: it will happen. It’s just a matter of when. But it’s also a matter of how. If it’s done right the deer won’t have to leave. In fact, if it’s really done right, the deer will play a vital role in sustaining the community. I just have to figure out where I fit into that plan.

I had a dream that night. I was going camping with a couple of people. It was some huge, organized event. Thousands of people were going to be there. We drove in a convertible jeep with the top down. I was already concerned that I hadn’t brought enough in the way of gear to keep me warm through the night. I thought, “I’ll be alright. I might be cold for a little while, but I’ll be alright.” I was sitting in the back seat with the directions to the place in my hand. Looking at them, I turned around in my seat, wind whipping at me, flying down the highway, and I let go. The piece of paper containing the directions floated away like a feather on the wind. I turned to my companions and, in a very matter of fact way, perhaps slightly feigning remorse, I said, “I just let the directions go.” My companions seemed concerned that we might lose our way, but there was no talk of stopping or turning back for the directions. It wasn't so much concern of whether or not we would get there, it was just how?

I went for a hike today. I wore very bad shoes. I came to a rock face that I needed to climb. I took off my shoes and put them in a sac slung across my back and I climbed the rock with my hands and my feet. The lichen tickled my toes. I moved pine cones and needles out the way with my hands and then placed my feet where the pine cones used to be. I got to a place that was flat and calm where grass and sage and juniper grew. I sat down, I laid down, I felt cold, crisp mountain air on my feet and through the threads of my sweater and I drew a picture. I started with pastels, but the colors I wanted were missing. I wished that I had a bit of sky to draw with. I didn’t. So I grabbed a hand full of dirt, spat on it, rubbed it in my hands, rubbed it on the page. I grabbed a hand full of juniper berries and cracked them open with my finger nails and drew juniper bushes. I squeezed and twisted and crumpled grass and drew grass with it. And at the bottom I wrote, “You are here.”

When I finished my drawing, I put my shoes back on. I wrapped my scarf around my neck. I zipped my jacket and I continued climbing. When I was back on the hill with the grass and the cactus and the pine trees with their rough skin that flakes off in my hands… I saw a rabbit running next to me; with me. I saw a pheasant fly across my path announcing my presence to all around. The deer heard the warning and moved away from me, only to stop after few paces and look right into my eyes. I grabbed my jacket where my heart would be if there were no cage confining it, and I cried. I don’t know why I cried. But I felt love and life and beauty and the words I had written moments before were buzzing in my head, “You have to WORK to keep this.”

My journey was a mission; an assignment. When I returned to the house I hugged the teacher and thanked her.

This isn’t what you do on your spare time. There is no time to spare.

So many times I have written and spoken these words: “You either live to work, or you work to live.” Today those words have no meaning. You live to live. Sometimes you get paid for it. You have to work to keep this. There is no time allotted for this and time allotted for that. You cannot live confined in the inventions of humanity for very long before your body cries out to you for home.

This came to me like a dream when I was out there. Like the dream where I am slamming glass upon glass of cold water, but can’t taste it. It’s a desperate cry. It is urgent. It’s a need. Like the time I went on the “Cleans” and consumed nothing but lemonade for 7 days and on the night of the 7th day I dreamt about beans and eggs and bacon and tofu and peanut butter. “EAT PROTEIN NOW!” that dream said. This one said, “You MUST be HERE! You have been too long away!”

The message on the machine when I got home said this: “Notice the difference in how you feel in each space as you move from place to place. Hold a rock in your hand and feel its weight pushing down on your hand. Let the earth support you and feel its solidness. Feel it carries you and cares for you. Feel the blood flowing through your body and feel your wateriness. Look at a clear sky at night and let your self relax into its vastness.”