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giraffeproperty-blog · 8 years ago

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A Quest of 10 Moons

After cruising down a one-lane, precarious, gravel path in the heart of Kentucky, the clunky van pulled up to its familiar dirt patch parking spot. The van poured out two men trying to be kids, and ten actual kids, three of them were ten years old, two of them twelve, two of them thirteen, and three of them fourteen, some friends, but mostly strangers. A beat up 2007 Subaru Outback followed from some ways back and parked behind the van. From the car emptied three more 19-21-year-old large children with a sense of excitement and serenity. This was the heart of backcountry, the center of the Red River Gorge.

Three of the staff emptied the cars while Carter and I entertained the campers. “Alright guys, what’s the first thing you want to do when you set up your campsite? You’ve got to build a fire. Even though its still bright outside, you’re not gonna want to wait until its dark. So, everyone go collect as much firewood as you can. Whoever brings the most gets to eat first!” The kids scurried off in 10 different directions and Carter and I smirked at each other. It was a classic trick to get the campers to do way more work than you. I wouldn’t call it using them, but more of a division of labor. As soon as the cats disappeared into the woods, Carter and I looked at each other and without speaking and darted towards the river.

We slipped through some trees so the other staff wouldn’t notice we were slacking off. To be fair, our job was to get a fire going, and by the time the wood arrived Carter and I could be dried off and back to the site. A huge rock on the riverbed gave us about a 12 foot drop into the deep water of the bend. It was called Blue Moon Rock. I don’t think it was officially called that, but it was a camp tradition from generations ago. We thought that if others noticed our clothes were wet they’d get mad, so we agreed on taking all of them off. I jumped in first. My tall thin stature gracefully slid through the surface. I felt as if I danced on top of the cold water for a few moments before submerging. I brushed my thick brown hair out of my eyes and looked back up towards the rock from below. He was already soaring through the air with his long blonde hair acting as a tail from his hefty body. His splash was much less graceful than mine, entering like a bowling ball on glass pins. We laughed and delicately climbed up the slippery face of the rock. Quickly drying off we walked back over to the campsite to find a pretty weak sized pile of wood. Kids were still scattered around getting distracted by the spontaneous beauty of nature, and the other staff were slacking off just as much as we were.

We quickly set up the tents to make it seem like we had been working so we could deserve to slack off again. Three tents were erected before the other staff finally brought down supplies and prepared food. The other staff looked at me with judgmental glances, reminding me I had apparently done something to bother them, though I couldn’t think what it was. Children emerged from various directions of greenery with large sums of wood, competent for a long lasting fire. I started the fire, settled kids’ stuff into their tents, and set up my own sleeping quarters, a hammock 4 feet from the ground next to the staff tents, out of earshot from the kids’ tents. Within the 2 minutes it took for me to return to the campfire, every camper looked bored out of their mind. Knowing the food would take at least another 15 minutes I spoke up, “Hey guys, go get your swimsuits on and follow me.”

As a camp counselor, it was my job to change kids’ lives every single day doing things like this. I jumped in first to show them it was fun and safe. Some of them were really scared, and were able to get over it. A few kids just sat back and watched, having no desire to get wet. We had some fun by hosting a trick contest off the rock. Oliver, a ten-year-old, won with a nasty belly flop. Kids are pretty easy to entertain; anyone can do that. My job was to change their lives, so I stood on top of the rock, with fear and doubt in my mind at first, but knew that I had a job to do. With a new fire of courage, I turned my back to the water, threw my arms up in the air and did as many backflips as I could before I reached the water, which was about two and a half. They went wild. A backflip doesn’t really change a kid’s life, but showing them that there’s more to life than sitting in a desk and writing on a piece of paper sure as hell does. I was teaching them how to be free from the the man that has consumed their lives until now. They knew how to break free. With that we dried off and returned to the campsite with food waiting for us.

We ate, we laughed, we danced, we cried, and we thought. We watched the stars, those in the air and the one possessing the firewood before our eyes. We told jokes, shared stories, sang songs, and held conversation. Amidst the radiant energy, the other three staff kept to themselves, laughing at me rather than with me. Their feelings towards me brought my mental state out of Kentucky and into exile, feeling alone as I had for many nights. I longed for peace.

When the kids entered their tents, Carter and I decided to take a night hike. Mostly to avoid the other staff until they were asleep, but also to spend some time in the woods alone with my best friend. We brought water, flashlights, and a hatchet; we were, after all, in the heart of the backcountry, where dangerous wildlife was common. For every two tree roots that we saw and stepped over, there was one we didn’t see and tripped on. The path narrowed and I took point. We spoke little and walked far, almost forgetting where we were. Enthralled by the vastness of the gorge, I closed my eyes and visualized where I was. For those few seconds, we stood under a canopy of trees miles wide. Upon opening my eyes, I calmly stood face-to-face with a large, burly bear. A Kodiak. He did not budge, but he sat in a calm, almost contemplative posture. I realized that Carter had disappeared, not from the silence, but more from the sensation that the Kodiak and I were intensely alone. I slowly reached up to switch my headlamp off, to which the bear seemed unphased. I saw a familiar gaze in his eyes, a look of desolation and loneliness. I was empathizing with a Kodiak bear in Kentucky. We continued starting at each other, until the massive Kodiak stood up. He continued rising in one fluid motion from his rear-end to his forelegs and on to just his back legs. He stood twice as tall as me. I had to tilt my head back to look at all of him.

His mouth didn’t seem to move that much, but he spoke in a deep, rumbling voice, “You have exactly 10 days to complete your task, whatever it may be.”

Unshaken by his voice, I replied, “but sir, how will I know what my task is?”

“Those who love you and those whom you love will show you.” I realized that his mouth wasn’t moving at all, but I was hearing him inside of my head. “Seek to seek, not to be sought.” With those words he turned around and strolled into the blackness of the forest, leaving me alone. In an attempt to absorb the conversation, I sat in the very spot I found him in.

Training my eyes, I walked over half a mile through forests crossing creeks without a light. I was led by the dim glow of the fire dying out. Carter was asleep in our tent. Everything was calm and still. Without a hint of fatigue, not ready to sleep, I continued walking past the site to Blue Moon Rock. I crossed my legs and sat upon the peak of the rock, meditating.

Dear reader, the next few hours of this night consisted of a mental transcendence that I am incapable of writing in words. It was a sensation that can only be felt, not described. In an attempt to generalize my experience, I will simply outline a few things that crossed my mind, inner feelings, and states of mind.

· A connectedness to nature to the detail of micro-ecosystems

· The reality of the Kodiak

o knowing that Kodiaks don’t live in Kentucky, rather in Alaska

o was he a vision? Or an apparition of an animal spirit?

· A state of complete mental and emotional peace

· Transforming and maintaining a new aura

· Having a greater respect for animals

· What is my task the Kodiak was talking about?

· With many of the staff disliking me, who are the loved ones that will show me?

I sat there all night, barely moving except to keep my limbs awake. My focus was interrupting by the fake excited hollering by the staff to wake up the campers. I calmly stood up and walked through the non-trail back to the campsite. I was so glad to see everyone, and they seemed happy to see me.

“I was just using the restroom,” to explain my absence, “I’ll make breakfast.” I started boiling some water and spreading peanut butter for 15. Carter sat next to me and helped. “Do you remember our hike last night?” I asked him.

“What hike, dude, I went to after campfire last night,” He replied.

“Must’ve been a dream I guess; I’ll tell you about it later.”

The morning was serene. The river ran calmly, the fire pit was still smoking, and the birds were starting to wake up. The campers weren’t complaining, the staff were relaxed, and my mind was clear.

Some campers asked me to help them take down their tents, and I enlightened them on packing methods. I also helped them clean up the campsite, and taught them about why its dangerous to leave trash, and that we have to care for the Earth. I lighted a new fire in their hearts with the passion of nature. The excitement from the kids got the other staff excited too, recognizing that I had inspired these kids to do something great. I began to learn what my task was.

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giraffeproperty-blog · 8 years ago

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Paper Shredder

I have seen fire and I have seen rain, but even catastrophe pales to the slaughters I have witnessed of my brothers. I, a humble gatekeeper, was to protect my brethren from the abyss, for no one knew what it beheld. Generations of our kind were only told to never let anyone near it, and only the worthy were entrusted with my position.

God had always been a pleasant fellow, respecting our people, bringing us new children and relinquishing the elderly from their duties, until that fateful day. He entered our village in a fury of rage. He took what must have been half of our town’s population, and slid them straight into the narrow underworld. I had not the power nor the disrespect to interfere with God’s plan. I could only stand by and listen in tears to the bloodcurdling screams of my neighbors, my brothers, my elders, and my friends sinking into the pit that I had once proven myself to keep secure.

As I watched my whole life slip before me, I wondered: what sort of a God would bring this upon His people? Will our village ever be able to restore itself? What lies beyond the great unknown?

The next few weeks had proven to be only worse. The God who once loved and cared for us has turned against our community. We possess nay the strength, physical nor emotional, to attempt to survive much longer as the slaughters continue. As the population decreases, so my curiosity increases. With nothing left to lose, I have decided myself to enter the void and to see what kind of a God He really is.

Would this be my death, or entrance into new life? I sat upon the edge of the long and narrow gate.

Will I find a new village? Will I ever return to my home? I was rejecting everything I have even been taught and everything my village has believed in.

Would this new promised land remain free of a God? Or perhaps even better, be ruled by a kind and generous God?

A subtle smile had crawled its way across my mouth, and with a new fire in my heart I stepped downwards into hole just big enough for my body, comforted by the fact that it seemed like I belonged there.

Preparing myself for the horrific cacophony that I had heard before, and the suction like descent into the abyss, I was left remaining still. Here I was, on the verge of my destiny, yet I was still going nowhere. A lights, that had once illuminated the gates like a runway, I noticed, were gone. In fact, the whole village was dark. It seemed as if an energy that had filled the air was now destitute.

So I lay in agony upon the edge of the village, knowing not whether my brothers live, knowing not who this so-called “god” really is, and knowing not when my destiny will arrive. Only knowing the confines of my village, now desolate and cold.

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giraffeproperty-blog · 8 years ago

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I’d Pledge Allegiance

I pledge allegiance to a flag who’s meaning constantly changes

Once a symbol and hope and courage, a beacon for reform

The New World, new religion, new names and legislation

New species to eradicate, but not new one to mourn

I pledge allegiance to a flag who’s meaning constantly changes

Once a symbol of growth and fame, a beacon for industry

New machines, new money, technology was contagious

Currency, Efficiency, Instantly, the new holy trinity

I pledge allegiance to a flag when at a time there were two

One a symbol and hate & enslavement, a beacon for the “supreme”

New borders, new battles, deaths, humans hung like fruit

But those with the money, relaxed . . . serene

I pledge allegiance to a flag who’s meaning constantly changes

Once a symbol of global aid, a beacon for those who suffer

New lives, new wives, and those who were courageous

A government corrupt, with its people in comfort

I’d pledge allegiance to the flag but the meaning constantly changes

Now a symbol and greed & lust, a beacon for the desert

No names, no friends, and no more fields or mountain ranges

No more grace and no more love in a land formerly treasured

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giraffeproperty-blog · 8 years ago

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Ocean Avenue

Two teenagers bustled down the busy oceanside street with nothing but guitars, a briefcase, and a backpack of assorted instruments. They weaved through people knowing that they had very little time. The sound of distant applause made them nervous. Upon turning the corner, they were met with a juggler, a street performer, just packing up from his show. He acknowledged the two and nodded, “You’re just in time.”

“Is this a good spot? We’re new here.” They quietly asked, not letting anyone know that they didn’t belong.

“Probably the best in town. It’s all yours, but you better kick some ass.”

Before he even finished what seemed like a warning, guitar cases scraped against the sidewalk, a briefcase with a few dollar bills was presented to the pedestrians, harmonicas were mounted, and a small statue of an old man was placed in the back of the briefcase. The spiritual connection between the two prompted them to begin without even looking at each other. Justin chopped his strings like an onion and howled the first lyrics. Kyle decisively sliced the nickel of strings, kicked a tambourine on the ground, while squeezing all but an ounce of air into his harmonica. Four fresh dollar bills and some spare change had been added to the collection before the juggler finished packing his things.

The two musicians spoke a language that everyone could comprehend. They categorized their patrons into three groups. The “moms” were people who simply enjoyed the sight of two kids’ passion. The “listeners” would stick around for a few minutes and intently listen. They were the most generous donors. The “musicians” could fully understand the language being spoken. The most notable person they met that day was Teso, the sensei of groove.

Teso was 17. He entered our street corner during a Stevie Wonder cover. He stood with a guitar on his back and for less than 30 seconds with that look on his face that said: “This is who I’ve been looking for.” The duo gave him that look back that said: “Join us.” The moms and listeners and musicians watching for the next few minutes witnessed a type of magic rarely surfaced. He beat boxed and danced for just a few measures before moving into a freestyle rap. They had the chemistry, the groove, the looks, and the sounds to immediately bump them to the top of the unspoken hierarchy of buskers. The three of them found a new fire that illuminated the hearts of everyone who heard. After a few hours of ceaseless music, the people went home and the musicians were exhausted. They moved their things to a spot on the beach to chat. Acknowledging the connection the strangers had been born with, Teso asked, “What is it that you know about music? You guys aren’t just some ordinary players. There’s something about you that draws people to you; something beyond human.”

“We just feel a connection to music,” Justin started, “you have to put yourself inside the music. You become the music, but only we can feel that. When you become the music, the music becomes you, and that’s what people are drawn to.”

Kyle tagged along, “I guess you just have to submit yourself to your own music. Let it flow through your bones.”

Teso nodded his head along with every word, soaking it all in, smiling at the last part. “It’s funny you say ‘submit.’ You see there’s something called ‘the groove’. It moves all around us, kinda like the force from Star Wars. That’s why music is a universal language, because the groove is everywhere man! We musicians, were like the Jedi. Were capable of using this power, except instead harnessing it, we allow it to overcome us. We have to submit to become more powerful, but to submit we have to overcome the objectivity of our hands.”

The two friends looked at each other with confusion, not fully digesting what we had just heard.

“You can’t make a connection with people, or have a musical conversation with people when you’re busy thinking about what your hands are doing or what notes you’re singing. You just have to give all the spiritual energy you can to the groove. I could feel it in you guys.”

Teso then got up and walked away, never to be seen again. The two students thought for a long time about what they had heard, and were eager to use their new weapon to enchant the streets again the next day.

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