The Habitation
a journal from Richards Bend
December 22, 2002
Today, this morning, the Winter Solstice came... It came nearly without my notice, or forethought on my part... I hadn't remembered to expect it until it past. Strange as it may sound, I've noticed an easing in a mood I've had for some time now... Just with the Solstice.
I turned forty a few days ago, and It's been on my mind for a long while now... age - what things I've done and the condition of my life - these times - all these times forty years. And while I'm sure there are older people now reading my words - 60's, 70's, these 40's of mine are strange - It is a strange new world for me now - admittedly, with what good things I have in my life, there's no reason, at all, for notions of hardship... But my experiences are how I relate to my world, my life - My experiences have been good, and charmed all this time - so I have nothing to compare these fortunes to. And so, it is often difficult to be as thankful as someone else may be, if they were placed in my shoes from more unfortunate ones. And this whole passing, my Son has been so much on my mind - so very much on my mind - he won't be here for Christmas, though I'm sure he'll have a wonderful time. So, as I thought today, driving through these low, rolling mountains, it is my life as well as his - my needs and his, neither more important, both so completely intertwined... There are times, I am consumed by deep thinking and concern for him, I forget to meet my own needs and I've been, in a word, depressed.
I've not written a word since the 8th of December - not for this journal, not in my personal journals - not for any story, short or novel - I've not returned any of my emails - not even happy birthday wishes, but then, I've never been the worlds best at correspondence. I've not written a word in fourteen days. I do believe this is the longest I've gone without writing since I started writing... What's strange, sometimes I write because I know you are expecting me too - You are waiting for me - that, if I don't post something, anything, soon, you'll leave me - stop coming back to see what's going on at Richard's Bend - And I want you to come back... I want you to be interested in what's going on here, with me, in my heart, in my mind, though, I don't often understand why you ever started coming here in the first place. I don't often feel worthy of much - I go about my life, trying as hard as I can to not to hurt anybody, but sometimes, as with anything moving forward, you run into things.
The times have been pretty - beautiful... there was a night - or early morning. I rose very early a day last week - every day actually, but this particular morning, it had been raining a day or two, but during the night, the sky cleared away - and the Full Moon of the Long Nights was there - in the western sky - Several hours before daylight... I had the need to be outside, on the west side of the cabin, and at a glance down at the rapidly moving stream, below the place, to the west, was the brilliant full moonlight, shining on the moving water below - the dark woods and rocks outlining the stream - the white moonlight shattered into a million pieces of water - and the scene took my breath. Orion and the winter stars rise over the eastern ridge early in the evening now - and it's winter - and these are just some of the beautiful things I've seen since we last talked. But, whatever stirs in me, has kept me from feeling exactly right... An email I received from a friend not long ago made a passing and seemingly factual statement that men often isolate themselves when they heal... The statement was made in a manner such that it was understood that I was isolating here at Richard's Bend in order to heal - and I objected to this... in my mind, without retort. I am reasonably sure I've not come to Richard's Bend to heal, as some think. I have come here to be closer to nature - to be more isolated - to write more - to deepen my own character - to better myself, and I'm not sure many people know this, or believe it. I think it is fairly obvious that I miss my Son from time to time - and I do get depressed occasionally, as do you. I am not now depressed because I have not fully healed from whatever knocked me down before - I am depressed now because I miss my Son these holidays, and I've turned 40.
I think it would surprise many of you to know that I once worked at a shopping mall - fifteen years ago - while I was in college. I worked at this mall for a couple years, and over that time, I came to know a great many people who also worked there... We were a community - not close knit, and I never did think of those people as family - but they were all my friends for that time. I was in that same mall a few days ago, for the first time in those same fifteen years. And what's strange, i didn't see a single familiar face. Not one. You may not think it is strange, and I suppose that it isn't strange, taken at face value - but the mechanics of it, how a place, a community, eventually empties itself, is interesting to me. I think it is fairly common that people don't work at various mall stores for more than just a year or two - then they go on about something else... slowly, over a few years, the familiar faces disappear one by one - until, oneday, when you have the occasion to be in the town you once lived, you walk around a known place - the same floor, the same walls, the same lights, the same stores - but all the people you knew have gone, and a new group of people have come, slowly - and the notion was particularly poignant for me on that day.
The fact of the matter is, I don't want time to pass so quickly. Fact of the matter is, I don't really feel old enough to be forty. Fact of the matter is, I don't want to be forty. I've not done enough - I'm not half done with what I want to do... I've done a lot. I've been a lot... An Olympic contender in bicycling, a black belt in karate, a musician, a well known cave explorer, a rock climber, a backpacker, a trout fisherman, a geologist, a beekeeper, a gardner, a naturalist - a husband, a father, a son and a brother - But I am not half done.
I used to love to go trout fishing - At one time, it was the most important thing in my life - before my Son came along, of course. And I was good at it. I could find the trout - but I've not been trout fishing in a couple of years - and I've not been much over the last ten years. And this, when I once went a few times a week. This week, now that I'm forty, It seems as if i'm trying to reconnect to my younger self - reconnect to the things that used to mean so much to me... So I've gone trout fishing twice this weekend... and it was really special. Today, driving through these low mountains, the bare forest, the bare trees allowing the brilliant, orange Solstice Sun to pass, bright, shadow - passing in streaks - thousands of tree shadows, thousands of bands of solstice sunshining crossing my face at 60 miles per hour - the drive alone was worth the day spent doing it... I arrived at the mountain stream - the green, deeply mountainous tint - the deep, gloomy gorge - with large blocks of sandstone rock standing up in the water - rolling white, cascading trout waters - with high Hemlock Trees standing so tall, and catabaw rhododendron forming a continuos break along both banks of the stream - it truly was reconnection. I wasn't to fish long, just experiment - find new homewaters, see if any trout were present, and if so, come back another day, more properly tackled. I wanted to test the waters - I wanted to test myself - to see if I still loved to troutfish. I cast my shiny lure into the water - once, twice, three times - when out of seemingly nowhere, a large, brown figure appeared, streaked toward my lure - and attacked it... Even with the couple years since I had seen a trout, I knew at an instant, it was a large trout for these waters... and the struggle between he and I was epic... But I landed him, and I was in love again - with this magnificent sport... with this magnificent mountain creature. It was a brown trout - two or three pounds - 20 inches long - a monster for these waters, and all the years I had fished, for so long, and hard - thousands of hours, I had never caught so large a brown - Rainbows yes, but never a brown... and this one here, before me, in my hands, presented himself to me in just a few moments of effort. I used to keep a lot of trout - eat them myself, or give them to friends who liked trout - I immediately put the fish in a creel - I was to proudly take this fish to a family member - and I'd receive my praises for skills unlost. I started fishing again... But the large brown trout kept flopping around in my creel - the more i tried to ignore his fight for life, the less I could fish. I couldn't concentrate on the fishing, even several minutes after the fish had stopped moving... finally I couldn't stand it many more, and I got the trout out of the creel - holding it in my hands, it appeared to be dead, so I lowered it into the water - I moved it back and forth - trying to revive it. The more I tried to revive it, the more urgent it became for me to release this fish. I became so sorry I hadn't released it as soon as I caught it - And suddenly I started doing a very unusual thing... I started praying - not formally, not with a "Dear God", but logically - I started asking God to help me save this beautiful fish. Now, I know enough about the fragility of trout to know that that fish should not have lived, but in just a few minutes, it's gills were pumping - it's color was coming back to it's former brilliancy - and in just a few more minutes, it was struggling to free itself from my submerged hands - after about fifteen minutes of trying to revive the trout, i opened my hands and he swam away - Energetically - disappeared into the green mountain stream - injured for sure - but I swear, I do believe he lived. I didn't fish anymore for the day, but I will go back - next time with less destructive tackle... and I will never, ever attempt to keep such a large and beautiful fish again. It's all about life - and how precious it is - even fish.
I do believe, if today was any indication, I am still the same person I've always been... and, driving home - back to Richard's Bend, I thought, I am here now, having passed a continuous stream of experiences - without end - I am today, what I was yesterday, what I was ten years ago - fifteen - forty... But as the years have passed, I have become more and more - and I hope I can become more and more - continually renewing, continually bettering myself - I want to continue to grow - and be like the days from now till summer. I think I sometimes loose sight of the fact that I am a good person, and I deserve to be happy.
It is a fact, something far more powerful than myself thought it wise to put light in these eyes... and yours. We are blessed.