by DCH Park
Bear Hug by terren in Virginia https://www.flickr.com/photos/8136496@N05/2257963106/
Bearhug loved blue skies and warm breezes and fragrant flowers. He welcomed the lazy pace of summer and the busy harvest of autumn but he especially loved wintertime. He relished the snow and the ice and the quiet that only seemed to fill the world when snow is falling or freshly fallen at night or in the evening and he was the first one to cross a virgin field, either alone or with a special companion.
Even in the daytime he marveled at the unbroken freshly fallen snow. It changed the landscape completely. He always relished being the first one to break the surface of a virgin field. Whenever he did, he became part of the winter scene, immersing himself totally in it. He loved winter’s chilly bite and savored feeling the cold, dense winter air deep in his lungs.
The wetness that he was walking through now bore little resemblance to that virgin field yet that didn’t dampen his enthusiasm at all, nor did the wetness itself. The skies were grey and a light mixture of snow and rain had darkened the ground though nothing was falling currently. The world seemed close and standoffish at the same time. Bearhug was trudging along, hands in his pockets, glad for the warmth of his hat, scarf, and jacket. He was taking advantage of a break in the falling slush and just about to follow the path up and to the left before it bent back to go into town when he spied another way going off to the right.
He stopped in mid-stride. This was strange, he thought. He’d walked along this path many times and had never noticed this other way before. He looked down the new way but could see only a short distance before it went around a bend.
He looked at the ground and the trees around the entrance to the new path. The earth was well-packed and the foliage grew as if many people had trained the trees and brush to leave the path open. The way had apparently been there for a long time yet he had never noticed it before. It seemed to be headed directly into the center of town, unlike the other path, so he shrugged his shoulders, made an audible harrumph, and turned to follow the new path.
He quickly lost sight of the previous path and entered a part of the woods that he did not recognize. If it weren’t for the path he was on, he would be completely lost. The woods around him grew stranger and stranger. The weather changed, too. It got warmer and brighter. Even though it should have been a blustery morning in winter, it now seemed more like a balmy summer day.
He took off his jacket, scarf, and hat, stuffed the latter into a jacket sleeve, and then stuffed the whole thing into his shoulder bag. He could feel the heat leaving his body and imagined it warming the air around him. He could feel his skin and hair cooling as they dried. His mind wandered back to his school lessons. He tried to recall the various modes of heat transfer. His brow furrowed with the effort. He imagined himself triumphantly charging into the memory and capturing it. Nevertheless, the harder he tried, the less of it he had. It was like focusing on his goal made it slipperier, in spite of what he’d learned. There was convection and…
He gave up. He couldn’t remember the other two modes of heat transfer but he could recall that there were three in total.
He forgot about it and took in the view before him. The forest was all he could see in any direction. The path was the only visible sign of civilization. He closed his eyes and felt into the forest and the path. There was no menace to either one and he could hear nothing threatening in the forest but he definitely felt a difference between what was ahead of him and what was behind him. To test it, he walked a little farther on, stopped, and felt again. Then he turned around and went a few steps back, past the point he had first stopped at, feeling the woods as he walked.
He stopped again, turned around, and resumed walking down the path. It was certainly possible to go back but he could feel a difference between going back and going on. It was a gentle, subtle difference sort of like walking down a slight incline – one that he could easily ignore, but something was inviting him forward. He decided to follow the invitation.
As he walked along, he began to notice fairy creatures on the edges of his vision. He wasn’t surprised to see them. The path and forest were so strange and how he had found them was so gradual and ordinary at first that it made sense that fairies would be involved.
He’d heard of fairies and knew that they were responsible for things mysteriously disappearing and then reappearing somewhere else and other magical occurrences and mischief but he had never seen any before. Now there were fairies all around the edges of his vision but they disappeared whenever he turned his gaze to focus on them directly. It was maddening.
He felt more than heard their laughter at his frustration. This gave him pause. Laughing at someone seemed to be at odds with the good feeling he got. He felt deeply into the forest, looking for any indication that the laughter was a weapon.
He could find no hint of ill feeling. It didn’t seem to be a weapon. Maybe his knee-jerk assumption was wrong. Maybe the laughter wasn’t a form of mockery. The forest was a happy place. It held no malice. There was no sense of triumphing over enemies or taking pleasure from their misfortune. He was the only one who had negative feelings. He felt frustration and anger.
Then it dawned on him. He was doing it to himself! No wonder the fairies were laughing! He saw the absurdity of it all and he laughed a little, too.
His reaction was spontaneous and unthinking but it helped. It lightened his mood. He didn’t take himself or his mood so seriously. His mood was still present, but he wasn’t completely tied up in it any longer either. He could still feel it but at the same time he could see himself feeling it. He continued to walk but he path suddenly found himself in a clearing. There was no way out other than to retrace his footsteps back.
He looked around the open space, also feeling for his own reaction. He felt safe in it, completely secure. He could see no earthly reason for the feeling but it was definitely real. He sat down in the circle, closed his eyes, and focused on breathing completely and opened himself to whatever came up.
It was like there were two versions of him. One was completely involved in the emotions that came up and took them on their own terms. The other watched from outside. It observed himself experience the emotions that came up without being touched by them. It had no agenda or opinion about how things should go. It didn’t push for any goal or end state. It simply observed what the other part experienced. It witnessed everything in its impartial evenness. He didn’t resist anything in favor of a certain idea of what he “ought” to do and this allowed him to experience everything.
He became aware of himself as a vital, creative human being full of humor and understanding. He was vastly important but only a single mote in a vast web that stretched across all time and spanned the whole Universe. He was no different from any other part of the Universe and being part of the Universe, he was part of all there was. So “all there was” would be lessened somehow if he ceased to exist.
At the same time, he was only a small part of “all there was.” If he didn’t do something, someone else would. In a way, he didn’t matter at all and that meant that he was completely free. He was the most important part of the Universe because he was completely free but every other part was just as important. He wasn’t unique but he was important.
He let go of all thought and desire and settled into a vast emptiness in which he could quickly tell if anything came up. It was like looking out onto a vast, open field. Anything that rose up was immediately apparent. He silently observed what came up. Then he became aware that he was not alone – not just in a figurative sense but literally. Presences were all around him. Even the empty space was filled with an ineffable presence that not only surrounded and penetrated him, it was available to him. The same ineffable presence was in everything. He had direct access to that inexpressible creative potential and one of the main ways he had access to it was through himself. He had direct access to himself. He became aware of everything and took in the energy of the place by noticing and taking in himself.
As his sense of himself cleared, so too did his inner vision. It was like a fog lifted but instead of being composed of water droplets, this fog was made up of blindness. It was composed of overlapping blind-spots that not only hid what was there to be seen, but hid themselves, so that even the blindness was hidden. As the miasma dissipated, he saw and felt things more and more clearly. He began to perceive nearby shapes and eventually perceived more and more distant ones.
Perhaps “shape” wasn’t quite the right word for them. He certainly didn’t perceive them as shapes at first. He sensed only surfaces and textures at first. Dimensionality came in only after a surface popped into 3-D existence – after it was no longer limited to the flat, 2-dimensional image but had depth – after it was an object in space. Foreground and background emerged bit by bit as surface textures became objects and space was defined between them.
Eyes closed, he continued to watch as the veil of blindness dissolved. Objects seemed to have a combination of an internal glow (with different objects having different colors) mixed with some sort of external illumination, though he couldn’t tell where the illumination came from.
He turned his head back and forth and marveled as the vista before him shifted just as an image would if his eyes were open. Many of the objects coincided with trees in the forest. He looked at one such object and realized that it was a building. Fairy buildings were all around him. He was in a vast fairy city. Fairy inhabitants flitted about and into and out of the various tree/buildings. Size didn’t seem to matter. Fairies could shrink or grow as needed.
As he looked around, one fairy appeared to him over and over. Sometimes it was in the foreground, sometimes it was in the background or in between, but it always wore the same colors and after a little while, he could make out a distinctive smile that this fairy always seemed to give him. After a little while longer, he noticed that there always seemed to be a certain tone in the air when the fairy was visible and not when he was gone. It wasn’t his voice in any conventional sense – his mouth was not coordinated with the sound – but it seemed to be associated with him.
Bearhug giggled. A thrill of joy and energy ran through him. Keeping his eyes closed, he saw fairies everywhere. He delighted in their many colors and watched their comings and goings with great joy and energy. Their voices were indistinct to him at first but as time went on he came to distinguish separate songs. There were hundreds of songs sung by hundreds of voices. Each different but somehow harmonizing with the whole. The forest/city was a joyful place.
He felt honored and humbled. For some reason they had invited him into their city. Without realizing what he was doing at first, he found that he could travel within the city without moving. All he had to do was focus on where he wanted to go – either someplace he currently saw or someplace he’d been to before even if he couldn’t see it – and he was there instantly and effortlessly! He traveled about the city this way, flitting from place to place. He took in some of the wonders it had to offer and always the songs were there.
Some time later the songs changed. The many voices were still present but now they sang a single song. It wasn’t that the different songs had stopped and this new song had begun. The various songs had continued unabated. They had simply woven together into a single song.
Was it the songs or his perception of them that changed, he wondered. Maybe both. He had no way of telling. Nor did he know the words or the tune but it was unmistakably a song of greeting. He couldn’t tell how many parts there were – many more than in any song he had heard before – but somehow they all came together. He could hear each part of the song without detracting from the others. Each part was sung by at least one voice but some were sung by many voices together and occasionally a voice would change the part it sang. The parts blended together, making a musical tapestry that was intricate and beautiful at the same time that it formed a unitary whole.
The many parts wove in and out like strands of a rope. Sometimes a single strand would be in the forefront while others played various supporting roles. At others, that strand would relinquish the spotlight while another carried the tune. Each strand followed its own rhythm and timing and honored its own momentum. Some featured variations of the main tune, others focused on harmonies. Still others went a different way entirely. Each strand was a song in itself with its own rhythms and harmonies but they all blended into a beautiful chorus.
He suddenly had a sense that he was sitting in the clearing again. The song of greeting had receded into the background. A fairy emerged from the forest/city and stepped into the circle before him. It was his “friend” from before. There was a sense of movement or continual becoming about him that made him appear to shimmer. Even though no words had ever passed between them, Bearhug felt a kinship and warmth for this being and felt certain that his feeling was reciprocated. He didn’t know how he knew. He knew the same way he knew what blue and sweet were. He just knew. The fairy stood before him and Bearhug opened his eyes to see if his outer vision would match his inner vision. He saw nothing in the clearing. It was almost disappointing.
He closed his eyes again and the being reappeared. It towered over him, looking down from above, but he felt no threat. On the contrary, he felt an easy mirth and humor from the being. Laughing lightness poured forth from the fairy as if it came from an inexhaustible source. Bearhug felt that he could make even the hardest way easy.
Bearhug couldn’t quite make out its face but something seemed familiar about it. The face itself shifted from one visage to another. At times it almost seemed like he was looking into a mirror. At others, the face was something else entirely or he couldn’t discern it but the sense of familiarity was always there.
He saw more deeply into the fairy than just its appearance, too. He knew its intentions. It was as if it communicated telepathically and the thoughts formed fully and instantly in his head without words first and then the words coalesced around the thought but only after it was fully formed. There was a moment before words but after he received the thought in which he understood it without words at all.
In such moments, his understanding of the thought was more complete and simultaneously more indistinct or tenuous. His understanding was broader – he got all of the thought’s implications and all the ways in which it was connected with everything else – but the single thought itself was much easier to hold onto through the words. So he opted to hold onto the thought or his projection or understanding of the thought through the words and only remember the larger, more ephemeral implications and connections as they were implied by the words or what the words evoked.
Who can say if his memories of such things were accurate or if the words themselves were faithful reflections of the thought-before-words? Maybe the words evoked the “right” connections, maybe they didn’t, but the words made it easier to remember the message and they certainly made it easier to communicate the message with others. They provided solid handles that he could easily hold on to. Sometimes, the words were all that he could remember. At such times, he could imagine a thought to go along with the words but he couldn’t remember the original thought-before-words at all.
Regardless of the relationships between thoughts and words (or vice versa) the intention he received was that the being looked forward to sharing whatever came up and to creating with him. He (She? It?) was ready to challenge and be challenged and he hoped that Bearhug would be open too. He smiled, sharing the warmth, humor, and acceptance with Bearhug.
Bearhug got all of this through the understanding that ran between them. He wasn’t sure what he’d find within himself but he was open to considering things. The fairy was satisfied. A sense of smiling open-ended readiness (that was the best description of the nuanced blend that he got) came to him. Could the fairy “read” his thoughts, too?
The fairy gave him a knowing half smile.
He relaxed into a feeling of cozy confidence, secure that although he didn’t know what was coming, he could weather it. He searched himself and found again the emotion that had almost engulfed him earlier. It had diminished to a distant rumbling but it had never left. He noticed the feeling and also noticed himself feeling it. The emotion came back into his attention like a nagging tooth…
That wasn’t quite right. It didn’t “come back” on its own. He brought it back. He was holding on to it. It was there, in the background, like a weight in his back pocket. He was dragging it along behind him. He swung the frustration around again so it was right before him. It went from being a lurking specter at the back of his awareness to a full-blown presence in front of him. Like an ancient hunter turning to face a charging tiger, he turned into the frustration. He let it wash over and through him. He watched himself feel it. He felt the frustration and asked himself what the feeling reminded him of. There was something familiar about it. Suddenly he was in a different place.
He looked around. He was at work…
To be concluded…
© 2015, David Park. All Rights Reserved.
”Bearhug – Part 1″ by DCH Park is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.