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Its Good To Be Alive Sometimes before/after What? No. You're dead. Seek enlightenment. I won't recognize you anymore. I walked along the river bank while the water gurgled and the forest came alive. The matted grass floor of the flood plain stretched to my right for a hundred yards before the topography swung upright. On the far side of the river was white pine, that I imagined threaded its way down, year after year, seedling after seedling, taking its place among the oak and maple. A woodpecker beat its head repeatedly into a strikingly hollow log. The birds screed as I walked along the river bank. I was the largest animal around, and they were paying me my due respect, I think. Amidst their furor of chasing tail, that is. It is spring, and everyone wants to get laid. The water was swift cold and dark, and I veiwed it with grim respect. This river is always swift and cold, fed by springs from the hillsides, some of which the Indians thought were magical. I respect the Indian ways and their beliefs. Their culture is so godam old. Only fools blithely ignore something that has survived for so long. Is it magic? What is magic? What is reality? The tangible is impermanent and formless, the metaphysical is paramount. What you think is all. I saw a tree that had collapsed into the river. It arched over the swollen rushing water. A fine place to sit and contemplate my existance on this goregeously sunny day. So I clambored onto the tree, and edged my way out over the water, like a tight-rope walker, and sat down. I did not feel alone. I never usually feel alone. In fact, I felt meshed with my karma, feeling like me for the first time in a long time. I fit, in a sense. I could see me, and I fit. I was in a place I should be, and I looked like I fit. Sitting on a log, dangling over a rushing river on a gorgeously sunny day. Then I thought about getting up. Motherfucker. There was no graceful way to get up. No handrails. No branches sticking out that would assist my rise up to walking state. No. Just this godam middling thin tree, that I thought was good for sitting. Fuck me. I'm stuck. So I sat and bitched about it for awhile, to no real effect. Its not like I expected someone to miraculously appear and help me off. There was not a soul for miles. (which is nice...and part of the reason I was there in the first place) And then, mustering some courage and balance, I tried to rise, awkwardly using a low branch for some inverse leverage. Easy does it. Easy... SNAP! Backwards, dangling over the river which gurgled by my ear, almost seductively, I received what must have been the largest jolt of adrenaline since at least my birthday (7-9), if not even more due to the unexpected nature of my imperilment. I lost my shit. Somehow, not sure how, I scrambled back to my seated position. And proceeded to bitch. And bitch. And bitch some more. Not like me to bitch and moan so much. Ususally I'm a silent fucker, crashing about, mucking things up. (which must be amusing at some point, say, if you were to watch me from a distance sometimes. "Oh yeah...he's fucked. Donny, come here and watch this guy...") I thought about my dilemma, and the fact that I'm getting older. Employing the "scoot" method, I was able to get to a point where I could stand. I walked off the log, and walked down the shore. Found my car, which was easy, since it was the only one for miles, and opened the moonroof, put on some tunes on my CD player and drove on down the dusty trail. Nothing like a shot of adrenaline to remind you that you are alive. Its good to be alive sometimes.
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