Back in the Real World

Upon returning from Cumberland Isle, we had to rush off the morning after to get Chad to his ear surgery. These are some of the notes I jotted down while sitting in the the waiting room. I can't guarantee that they make any sense, but you will be able to see how far out my mind stretched.


First Night Back in the Real World
Back in the world
after 5 days on Cumberland Island
I woke (in my bed) last night
thinking the shadows
on the ceiling
of my room
were the Live Oaks
under the full moon
shadowing my tent
I could see every detail
including the Spanish Moss
(which we learned is neither Spanish
nor a moss
but related to the pineapple
family)
dangling from the Live Oak
limbs
I perceived animals up in the branches
and a tiger pacing
like I was in a jungle
I could smell the air
the only thing missing
was the sound of the waves
which is probably when I realized
that I was in my bed
and I returned blissfully
to sleep


Fading
the images of the island
the experience
the magic
the peace
the natural noises
are all fading
like an awesome dream
that you grab at and try to remember
the magic seems so far away
the sights
the scents
I wish that I had
some time to process
before thrust into
this pace
I will have to wait
and meditate
to recall my island experiences

Stranger
like a Heinlein novel
i AM a stranger
in a strange land
and i don't want to
ever fit in

Next
my brain is so frayed
will I ever piece this
all together?

More Odd Thoughts
I don't want to fill
my brain
I want to empty it.

One More...
How are you Lady Winckel?
Not the same.

More Than Magical

We left the Island two days ago, and since, I have been wondering if it was all really a dream.

BB Mumblings at Dither wrote a little ditty entitled Cumberland Island National Seashore so I know that I wasn't alone, and it really wasn't a dream.

There are two places that I have visited that stirred my soul: Mt. Shasta (Shasta-Trinity National Forest) in Northern California and Cumberland Island National Seashore in Georgia.

Though nothing especially note taking occurred on Mt. Shasta, it's mere size and energy along with the crisp clean air and freedom from burden put Mt. Shasta at the top of my list for one of the most amazing places that I had visited. After standing on that mountain, I felt a shift in me. It's a powerful mountain.

I always thought that I would have to return, that nothing could fill and move my soul like that again.

Enter Cumberland Island.

Cumberland Island is more than magical. It's mythological.

Normally on an excursion, I take hundreds of photos. I took few on this trip, and the ones I took are marginal. I have a few good shots, but nothing more. What I have are images burning in my mind, and just like the wild horses, it's fleeting. There is no capturing it.

I can try to put it to words. That is a writer's job, but I don't know if it is possible. I don't know if I am ready to truly reveal what happened to us out there. It seems and feels more like a fictional novel or an amazing, beautiful and magical dream.

I jotted down, in poetry form (I think it is really the only way to approach it) some of my memories, and those I can share. But first I have some things to figure out.

First Day on the Island

dripping sweat
hiking in
three carts filled
with
one half mile
to number 13

in the distance
thunder rumbling
the clouds
impossible
to see through the hammock

camp secured
half mile walk
to return the carts
half mile trek
to double back
to camp
first rain drop
then another
lightning flashes to a count of
two
in the woods around us

back at camp
huddled around the table
under the tarp shelter
rain begins to fall
lightning thunder
lightning thunder
wind
5 of the 6
retreat to the tents
and only one remains
to weather the storm

pure fury
river of water through the campsite
lightning flashes
then with no pause
thunder crashes
over and over and over
again
wind thrashes
and blows the rain sideways

sitting on the table now
feet on the bench
soaked to the bone
chilled by the storm
and feeling all
Mother Nature's fury
meshing and melting
my own fury


First Night on the Island

thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
horses gallop on the trails
through Sea Camp
BB says
"I hear something behind the tent"
flash of light
an armadillo scuffles its nose
along the ground
in search of supper
unalarmed by the beacon
causing its armor to radiate bright silver
laughter
then barely audible
the sound of a light drum
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
beating
on the dunes
behind us

The Agrarian Urbanite (August 2009)

Hi. It took me a bit longer to finish this months issue with the mourning of my friend's death, but August's The Agrarian Urbanite has made it to "press". This is Volume 1 Issue 3. You can read past issues at www. agrarianurbanite.wordpress.com.

Thanks for reading.