It is only a small mountain
as mountains go,
too stubby for any map.
But still, in my boots,
I climbed and climbed until at last there was nothing
but the blue sky
and a single final pasture
and a few not-very -tall trees-
and from under these came running
a fawn on its tumbly legs,
the sound of its wanting falling
from its pink, pursed mouth.
But I knew the rule:
Don't touch it, or the doe
might never come back!
So what could I do? It almost
reached me
before I slung myself into a tree.
And there I was
higher even than the mountain,
perched for hours
while beauty held me tightly...
I didn't move
until the doe came back,
angry and snorting
and she and the fawn tiptoed away.
And so I was free.
And there was nothing to do,
as there is never anything to do,
after rapture,
but to swing down
bough after bough-
to hurry down, field after field,
through the pale twilight,
to be greeted by the people
who loved me, far below.
I read recently in a book about wildlife that humans evolved to focus on wildlife - either responding in fear or awe. We did so because we needed to run away or to hunt, so it behooves us to be caught up in other life. Perhaps also we evolved to be caught by wildlife so that we might cooperate - paying attention to life helps life. For instance, in this same book, "Who Cares About Wildlife," there are studies that show it is nearly impossible to keep people from feeding the wildlife. The authors suggest that we evolved to care for wildlife.
Mary in the tree is our wild heart - caring, hunting, and fearing. She, like us, is caught by our evolved natures. She, like us, is also freed by our evolved natures and our intention. For we may constantly strive to remember that there is never anything better to do than to be in rapture and to love and to be loved. We can bring ourselves into this possibility by climbing each our own kind of mountain, be it small or looming impossibly high. With the sun squeaking through my back yard pines, oaks, and magnolias I set my sight on climbing this day so that I, by day's end, may greet the sunset with love.
What mountain do you climb?
