December 27th, 2008


out of the wild

i'm glad i went snow shoeing yesterday...
didn't find what i was looking for
but had a great walk
took some nice pictures
got a sweat going.

today when i woke
the snow was half gone
temperatures reaching somewhere in the 40ºs
i mostly lolled about the house
playing on the computer for a while
after a menial yoga

a day of slushiness
rain pouring down outside
my sister, aunt and cousin went for a walk in the forest
only three pairs of snow shoes. . .

i started talking with another aunt
my mother...
the Men all wanted to go out to Luddington
but one fell, broke his glasses, injured his elbow
and they were hungry

i felt a strange schism
while looking at everyone
wondering how i fit in

all the men
big and brawny
-- how i desire them, some honesty, some mark of manhood
yes, these deer heads, these hunter-caps
this somehow is a sign of the Real American Male
how do i fit in with them?
maybe i fit in better with the women
since the whole family has arrived
it is only the women i have been hanging out with
and after the men left
after the girls got back from hiking in the snow
my aunt, wife of my god-father, asked me to listen to a CD on chakra chanting
and asked me to explain a bit

my mother used her tuning forks and cleared our chakras
i sat us down and set up a few rounds of chakra-chanting

it was a nice experience
... then my mother wanted to watch

i got the DVD from netflix just before i left NYC
my father had told me about some movie he'd seen called
"alone in the wilderness"
so i got it to show it to him...

my mother had read the book a year ago
and i came down a few minutes into it
after copying the chakra pages for my own use

sitting through the movie
i cried many times
the dynamic meanings of the events far more poignant
sitting amongst the family i had been spurning for over a decade...

i'm so glad i learned the lesson:
before i died
i'm so glad i've learned the importance of family and community

though i have not yet learned how to be a part of it
at least i've know my work. . .