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7 & 1/2 Acres |
2004-08-01 - 9:46 a.m. So let's see here... so much has passed. Visitors. Places visited. Waters swam. Dreams. Tree work. The easy stuff--Tree Work. Yesterday, eleven trees, seven or eight of fair size, down and laid next to each other waiting clean up in an hour and twenty two minutes. We worked at the Bank and used a crane. The operator hoisted me up, I set a sling and hooked it in, rappelled down, pulled my rope, and cut. Two flat overlapping cuts about an inch apart, a signal, and then the amazing feat of watching an entire 60, 70, 80 foot tree raise from a flush cut at the ground and seemingly float up a hill and over to lay down in a driveway. It was nothing less than magical; the ride up suspended from the crane ball, effortlessly, having the ground fall away beneathe me (flying would be like this); and floating entire trees, suspended 10, 15 feet off the ground, over distances undisturbed to gently lay on the ground. One tree every seven minutes or so. It was magic and a ballet. My dreams in no order of occurance: One. Driving one of our big rigs--must of been the bucket truck. I'm into a bend in the road and going a bit too fast, I'm struggling to ease the truck around but the road keeps sharply curving. I'm in the on-coming lane. I feel the top heavyness of the truck. I'm trying to be gentle. I feel the passenger side wheels lift and I teeter. I go over. The crash is on my side. The truck, with me in it, scrape and gouge earth. I'm thinking, I'm going to be late and I've got to call Will. Two. I'm in a fast food joint. I think it is McDonalds. I'm sitting at a booth. My stay is momentary. I'm there to drink and cool myself. Having gotten what they came for and now proceeding to leave is SR and MW. SR is her younger self, when I knew her as a four year old. She sees me but doesn't know what to do. I smile at her. I feel assurred in who I am and in my self-confidence. I nod and say hello SR. MW is a few paces behind and I likewise nod and say hello MW. I say their names and recognize them but the nod and hello is only that. Just recognition and acknowledgement, no more. MW nods back, surpasses SR who then follows as they walk out of the McDonalds. Three: I wish there was a three. I know there was but I've presently forgotten it. I remember bits and pieces, being in a fun/horror house and descending a staircase that grew smaller and smaller until it was just a crawl space. It led deep into the earth to a catacombs of sorts where Tom Cruise kept his special collection of Bar B Q fork skewers by candle light. There must of been more... Waters swam. This is an organized entry you see and I must hit all of my points listed in my heading. The Chatooga. A bend in the river at the most wonderful campsite ever experienced where we swam and swam. I let myself float and be carried by the current. I gave in to this water and let these certain things go. This strange and irrational phobia I've got. I swam half floating on my back, carried by the current over the deep and dark parts shadowed by the rocks. I exposed my back to my horrors. They didn't come. I dove down to the bottoms where deeper bottoms gave way to ravines of deeper and darker bottoms. I did not quite go to the deepest of bottoms but I did stay and linger at the depths and in the murk. I let the currents carry me and though my swimming wasn't as much play as it was for Shawn, and Molly, I was in it. And this has to be one of the most wonderful places. This trip on the Chatooga. The adventure of the rapids and the falling in with Molly's Dad. Ah, that was great. That even in water, I can move to action. My feet got lodged in the bottom of the raft so while I was overboard and submerged, my feet were stuck in the boat, all in the turmoil at the base of a rapid. When Molly's Dad spilled out of the raft a few seconds later, he knocked my feet free and we went floating. The action: look, see where Paul is--he's okay, feet down stream, grab that extra loose paddle, watch for the throw line, grab, put it over my shoulder, and let myself be towed in. Ah, the sweet presentness of mindful/mindless action. To not think but to do. This place was for me akin to West Virginia when I was twelve. To the camping there in that field in a valley lined with overtaken farm fields. You could find old apple trees weathered and worn hanging on in new forest. This was near Seneca Rocks where we'd climb all day and then return to this place which was our base camp. I was twelve or so, as I said, and I was discovering a relationship with God. I was filled with it. It was my daily meditation in this beautiful place doing these adventerous things. It was a presentness in the moment that is still with me. And so, this is The End.
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