I haven’t come close to spending months alone in the wild since the years written about in The Dying Fish but I manage to sneak in a few days and nights even while chained to Pittsburgh. 426 more words
Tags » The Wild
To this day my spiritual life is found inside the heart of the wild. I do not fear it. I court it. When I am away (from it) I anticipate my return, needing to touch stone, rock, water, the trunks of trees, the sway of grasses, the barbs of a feather, the fur left behind by a shedding bison.
Thanks so much to the bolstering bloggers who wrote in support of sending my son and his mate into the wilds on Saturday.
If, like me, anyone was then slightly anxious lest something hideous happen and that our careless words might be reproduced in headlines and debated in chat shows – … 380 more words