Walking the Marshes
If you've ever tried looking into a marsh, a real marsh, the kind with grasses taller than you are, then you'll know you can't see a damn thing in there. I was in one such locale earlier today, along with my brotha Rolf Haas, and our faithful companion: the ageless wonder, Bella(morte), the golden retriever. It was amazing to realize that, as easy as it would be to lose a dog under normal circumstances, it would be just as, or even more easy, to lose a person only feet away; perhaps even following on the same path. We met a dude out there, a hunter type, by the looks of him, that had a couple dogs. One of 'em was a little guy, chihuahua of all things. He had a bark like a fox, and he snarled like he was looking at one of the four horsemen. You'd swear he had rabies or something. It was pretty intense, but Bella, the boss that she is, just waltzed on by, didn't even look at the dude.
I also got my first taste of hardcore bushwhacking out there, discovering in the process, that the best way to do so is simple: just fall over in the general direction you intend to go. The stuff is so thick and meshed together that it just wouldn't happen otherwise. You could be Rawlins in a rage and you still wouldn't get farther than 10-15 feet. It was depressing as hell to look up at the tree line and see all these houses lined up, but a moment taken in nature is worth it, despite the circumstances. Matta fact we were just talking about that while we were out there, about how much it would suck not to be connected to nature. Like if you grew up in London or something and your parents were dunces and never took you out to the countryside. It's a really helpful and centering experience, if you've got the patience and the attention span to let go of all the societal pressures and responsibilities, and just exist. As we were originally intended.
Try it sometime, the next time your feeling weighed down by everything life can heap on ya. Preferably when it's not gushy and wet (outside).