The Magnificent Death (4)

Years later. These woods. The fading sun casting long shadows. In this moment on that bend on a slope you envision your ideal death. You imagine a mountain lion. The beast still existed and in these very woods, albeit rare. They were still here. Avoiding extinction, through guile and guts. Still here.

Again, you hear the rustling. Could it be the wind? No. Everything about you is motionless. Most likely it’s vermin scuttling within the leaf bed. Or is it the great cat, with claws and fangs and yellow eyes?

Could it be?

It comes from deep inside, almost like a prayer, a fantasy or even a nightmare. In a way it is all of those things. Let it be a cougar that takes your life, right here and now, pouncing on you and ripping apart your throat, feeding upon your flesh. You would welcome the pain as penance for everything you’d done. Dying in the mouth of a lion. Such a magnificent death! Your body becomes a sacrament. Something holy. No more fearing the end like everyone else: how it might happen, how might it hurt? Between his claws you would make your peace. Then fall backward onto the ground, bleeding into it, as the lion tore out your heart.

Only a squirrel.

Chattering, it scurries across your path. Unless you slip and fall, you will not be dying on this trail. Your magnificent death remains a waking dream. Yet, you feel an odd lightness. You’ve discovered an idea of death you can live with.

New chapter soon…

The Magnificent Death (2)

You’re hardly the first person to feel this way. Many fortunate people receive the blessings of The Great Outdoors. So many recovering alcoholics call nature their Higher Power. Good for them. They’re lucky and probably right. If God exists he’s out here. He made this. He created the Garden of Eden. Before we fucked it up. Long before you, indigenous people tread these very trails. They knew it, too: The Great Spirit. Too many people only experience nature once a year on vacation, on mandatory field trips taken from school, or worse, just in movies. No wonder its magic wore off. Maybe they weren’t paying attention – too busy looking at a screen instead of the sky. Still, you’re glad they’re not here. The trails are often deserted. Blessedly. It makes no difference to you. What others think. What they do. People no longer matter. Out here you feel no shame. Out here you is stoned immaculate.

To be continued…

The Magnificent Death (1)

Like many introverts, you find serenity in nature. Retreating into the woods, the hills or simply out on the lake fishing. Leaving the company of people. Entering a better place.

Drugs and alcohol once took you away from people. False prophets, malicious guides into dangerous places, they drew you inward. Left you there. Isolated. Like they say in AA, your brain is a very dangerous neighborhood.

So you go outside. Marin County has so many trails. Within minutes you are free. In nature means you’re never alone, even by yourself. It’s both hard to explain yet obvious. Solitude is company. You hike. You walk. You stand perfectly still. You can feel yourself breathe. No more waiting to exhale. Not here. The monumental redwoods and fragrant cypress are profound company. Called “The Sleeping Giant” by locals, Mt. Tamalpais lords over you like a sentinel.

Exaltation. Elevation. No matter the circumstances, if you open the door you will always feel better. It never fails. Misery comes when you forget that it’s here.

To be continued…