Updated 16 April 2010
For Your Journal, Creative Writing, or To Discuss:
Tell about a time you were in unfamiliar territory, whether geographically or emotionally. What was it like? Describe what you perceived and how you felt -- your reactions to others, and theirs to you. What happened? (Below, as an example, is an exerpt from a memoir in progress.)
Tell about a time when you were “talking” to an animal…when one may have been trying to “communicate” with you.
Your car, your home, the place where you work, the clothes you wear, even the things you eat: How do these symbolize who you are? Are your “things,” is your “stuff,” in sync with who you’re becoming?
What can you say about “the wisdom of wilderness,” ecologically…spiritually…socially?
Tell about “the other side of grief,” after a great loss, divorce, even death of one kind or another.
* * *
LESSONS IN PERSPECTIVE, An Anecdotal Course Notebook
APPLIED ANIMAL HEALTH PROCEDURES
Mount San Antonio College
It’s the first class meeting at a nearby junior college. Following a map to the farm area, I drive through tall gates from the parking lot to a narrow paved road that leads to the Vivarium, a classroom in an old tin bungalow at the edge of a pasture. A number of farm animals and exotics appear to be watching me... (Emu by Nonie)
I am safely ensconced in the snug-fitting bucket seat of my black cocoon, an Infinity J30, circa 1993, in mint condition. I’ve just gotten it back, after the divorce, and had it washed, waxed, and detailed. The dust cloud in my side- and rearview-mirrors feels like a soft if menacing reproach, billowing in my wake. “What are you doing here, in that car no less? What are you doing with your life?”
First the sheep, one by one, gravitate back towards me, even the ram, turning their bodies to face me. Then the pony and the mini-calf across the aisle do the same. I glance over my shoulder. The llamas are watching and heading this way too. I am like the middle of a pie and all these odd curious critters in their paddocks and pens are fat wooly, short stocky, tall lanky wedges pointing towards me.
(Llama and her Cria, by Nick Boesen)
* * *
So the journey begins as it continues. Thank you, Dear Reader, for voyaging with me.