You never know what opportunity is going to travel to you, or through you.
Once a friend game me a small pine cone-one of a few he found in the scat
of a grizzly in Utah maybe, or Wyoming. I took it home
and did what I supposed he was sure I would do-
I ate it, thinking
how it had traveled through that rough and holy body. It was crisp and sweet.
It was almost a prayer without words. My gratitude to you, Tom Dancer,
for this gift of the world I adore so much and want to belong to. And thank you too, great bear.
I often aspire to be like Mary Oliver, but in today's poem she surpasses who I ever imagined myself to be. She ate seeds from bear scat.
Really? Did she really? Does she really do this and all the other things in her poems, or does she write poems from her imagination?
Who knows the truth of magic in our modern day shamans, but surely her power comes from somewhere. So why not through the leavings of bears?
As a veterinarian I think of disease transmission and imagine her boiling the heck out of that pine cone before ingesting it.
But perhaps I over estimate the need for sterility in this procedure, or in any other I undertake today.
Maybe, just maybe, I will roll around in some shit today left behind from some wild being in the woods, smelling like I belong to the family of things, smiling like I know it.
What would you take in from the wild as food for your soul?