Sunday, April 30

walk in the woods

I went for a walk today to break in the hiking boots I got for my trip to Utah. Two things came of it:

Seeing shells, seeing bottles,
I learn the hunter's mantra:
beer then deer.

Feet, lost in forest:
one of the few times
when I know where I am.

The folly of "private property" occurred to me over and over as I wandered through land owned by various people. It was all forest. There were no boundaries there, no marks of any human kind (except for 100 year old, crumbling stone walls). I saw deer, I saw squirrels, I saw dried up streams and lively green ponds. I never wanted to "own" any of it; that would destroy the very thing that made the land so special. I simply wished to exist there, in the chaotic nest of creation, the thriving circle of death and rebirth. More traditional faculties kicked in, however, when I heard the sounds of a person not too far off; it sounded like they were revving a bike or quad engine or using some kind of power tool. I headed in the opposite direction. I left nothing behind me and took nothing with me, yet technically, I was breaking a law. For existing. Laws are funny.

I went to a book fair this morning and found the only three books that weren't about monotheism in the religion section; of them, I bought a historical look at buddhist development ("The Buddhist Tradition") and a collection of Zen stories ("Zen Flesh, Zen Bones"). The other book was about all the religions of India; it didn't particularly interest me. I also found a collection of Haikus (mostly Japanese) in the poetry section, so I've been playing with haikus in my head all day.

My uncle came over for dinner and I watched sports with him and my father. I don't typically watch sports, but I thought I'd try it today so I could be with family. By the end of the game I was even rooting for a side (Not wanting to spoil it, I didn't divulge my philosophy on sports: that every team is logically equivalent since players and coaches are swapped around incessantly) along with my dad and uncle. That side lost by a point.


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