July 11, 2022 (part 1)

Last night, i awoke to the stillness and quiet in the wee hours with not a hint of wind. I'd grown accustomed to the rustling of tarps and the channel of winds between the peaks to clutter my mind to sleep. At least I wasn't choosing this time to right all of my wrongs.

The furrow in my brow had surfaced in highschool. A particular photo materializes that was taken prior to a race around the track.

I remember back when one of the men in my life tried regularly to iron out that furrow with his forefinger. Another, gifted me with an intricate box inlayed with a floral pattern. It housed a worry stone. And then with all practicality, another suggested that I intentionally added worry to my plate of concerns.

I think back to my arrival here in this scooped out parcel of land remembering the giant cowpies. Only, I knew then, they weren't from cattle. A pile of dung 2 plus feet in diameter, is sign of the bison. Bringing this to the forefront of my mind, an article in my news feed shared that a Colorado man was gorged by one at Yellowstone a week or so back. Yellowstone is but a hop skip and a jump from here where nearly 5,000 bison are known to roam.This doesn't slip from my thoughts so easily. I did the research. 2,000 pounds in weight and can run up to 35 miles per hour. They are agile and can turn quickly (despite their size) and are good swimmers. Unpredictable.This is the trait I find most disturbing. I see that they advise to hide behind a tree, or to climb one...the tree I do not have.

I think of their history and somehow this calms me.They made their trek here to North America 400,000 years ago when there was an ancient land bridge connected to Asia.They were enormous creatures during that period. A fossil of one's horns was discovered measuring nine feet in length. I lay awake a long time filling my plate with Bison worries until a slight breeze begins to blow. Just enough that the fly and tent rise and fall in unison, causing a wisp of a sound like a baby's breath and it goes on like that for a good while, eventually lulling me into sleep.

Morning comes and I have no time to ponder anything. My chest is dripping with sweat. I roll my bedding, place it in the center of the cot and crouch to get out of there. First, my head scanning the perimeter, and then my whole self. My imagination turns boulders into bison shapes. I blink a few times to sharpen my vision, go for water and drink the entire bottle. I feel good today. I can breathe. No headache. My back is stiff from an on-going battle to remain on a cot that threatens to roll me off throughout the night, but symptoms are dissipating. The idea of this lasting is a thought I don't sit with too long for fear of jinxing it. I have heard if you return to disagreeable environments, you will cascade back to misery.

I wonder if my visitor will come for breakfast. Most mornings a comical bird comes round and chatters away helping himself to a few stray oatmeal flakes and spoiled blueberries. We are comfortable with being four or five feet from one another now. He amuses me. I first met him weeks ago on my walk down the drive. He nests about 4 feet from the ground in a bush covered in green and ripening berries. (The bed and breakfast, i presume.) He complained of my presence and I mimicked his sounds, complaining back. If I rise too late, my chance is gone. I am stuck with the grasshoppers. I remember a scene in "Lonesome Dove", where they feasted off of them. No wonder. There are millions of them clicking away their high pitched electronic take-offs and landing with what sounds like playing cards stuck in bicycle spokes.

At times, while tidying and doing the few chores I have, I'll listen to an audible book. I've never played music here. It seems incongruent to the vastness of the landscape and i prefer this solitary place to remain void of any era. I leave the music to the vehicle. The familiarity of my tunes have been welcomed there and can lift my spirits, though the lyrics carry a different weight now. My deciphering of their meaning has changed in a matter of months. I listen incredulous.The fine tuning of extricating yourself from the every day is shocking to me. I am ever-changing it seems. Just when you think you know yourself, a new part of you comes around the corner. The noise of the world, the news, the senseless concerns are swept away for the reveal to shine and awaken. I am bottling the remaining days here because soon the burden of worry and hours of no sleep will tax me until I find another safe haven my body can meld into for the purpose of healing.The in-between time will be hell. I need to keep this course of healing. It will be interrupted by traveling though harsh toxic air in the cities until I find my place. Just know that I am ever so grateful to all of you for making this next rental car a reality. I cannot possibly thank you all enough.