wandering

Subtle Part of the Forest

/ boz bozeman / 5 Comments 
In his story,
My student wrote:
“our parents decided to move to a more suttle part of the forest.”

Yes, he misspelled the word. 
And he was misusing it even if he spelled it right.

But I'm not taking points off.

Because now I want to move
To a more subtle part of the forest.
 
A place off the path,
But just off the path,
A place that everyone passes 
But not everyone sees.

A clearing bounded 
by pine needles and leaves.
Within, giving loamy earth.
The air
is the mingling scents of green. 

Sun light rays down 
Defining trees
Giving them their shadows.
Forest dust shapes the sun shafts
that shooting-star bugs plunge through.

Barriers to Beauty

/ boz bozeman / Leave a comment

I was walking Anna the dog to explore whether the bridge had been rebuilt in an area we like. When I saw that there was no bridge, I decided to explore along the stream to see if there was a way across, maybe some stones or logs.

There was nothing, but that’s not really what this post is about. I was looking at the stream with annoyance. I wanted to get across, and it was a barrier to my desires.

I stopped myself, realizing that my attitude didn’t really support my philosophy. A stream is a beautiful thing, and many times I’ve stopped by this water, gazed at it, enjoying the sight and sound. So I stopped myself, and Anna, and we looked down at the water, enjoying its burbling flow.

The lesson I’m trying to take away is that sometimes something enjoyable can be burdensome if we have the wrong attitude. I’m trying to make sure updating this website, working on my writing, isn’t an extra that seems like too much. Hopefully the lesson of this stream will help me in pursuing my ambitions.

Old Friend

/ boz bozeman / Leave a comment

This was an hour ago. I was alerted by Anna barking. He stood their calmly, not placid, eyeing Anna with concern but not fright.

He stood still as I took pictures, took the time just to look at him. The intelligence in his eyes reminded me of wisdom, an idea supported by the white shading his brown coat.

My Story 1: “The Missing Antler” He lost the antler but won the fight.

My Feelings: Blessed. Fortunate. Aligned. Humbled.

My Story 2: “Grey Mein” Age withers but does not defeat.

My Fantasy: Spirit of an old god. Patron of flight and fight. Master of camouflage.

My Feelings 2: Fear that if I step out of line this kind of thing won’t happen to me anymore.

My Belief: Be an animal.

I called him “Old Friend” maybe 6 times. The last was when he finally ran. I said it and he stopped and looked back at me. I said “Goodbye, Old Friend.”