More and more, my brief experience living alone in the Ozark hills in ’71 comes back to tantalize and provoke me. I wonder if anyone else out there has ever had these feelings?
They come back to me whenever I read about the place. It’s hard to put into words, but the essence of it is that I felt as if an incredible secret was revealed: the trees, the plants, the rocks were very much alive, and not in a poetic sense. They lived and breathed. We were all one, sharing the same consciousness. I was merging with it all. In that autumn of ’71, I knew I had to get back to Austin or else stay in those woods forever and become an Ozark sadhu. That’s how strong the pull was.
I had similar experiences back in Maryland, mostly on the water–but how could I live in a kayak for the rest of my life? On our walking route, I sometimes passed by a field of ripening oats or wheat, I never knew which. But more than once, I felt as if the crop was conscious. I kid you not. I felt the spirit of the grain. I was aware of something we don’t have words for, you might say. I am in this respect a raving mystic, I suppose, and I swear to God I’m not making any of this up.
Here in New Mexico, the close proximity to wilderness has brought the feeling on again and again. See this post for just a taste. And this one! There’s a power, a knowledge, an immensity of being that we usually aren’t consciously connected to, but I think we used to be.
Sometimes I sit outside in our backyard here and watch the clouds. That’s all I do, just watch the clouds for hours. I’d rather do that than read a book, watch a movie, or virtually anything. Just watch the goddamn clouds and sense the currents in the ocean of air. I have actually cried for joy at this, REAL TEARS, been overwhelmed, completely blown away. FOR FREAKING CLOUDS!!!
Getting closer to this, opening the door a little more each time, is what I’m living for. It’s the highest value in my universe.
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