You know that feeling you get when in the course of the last week you've fallen under the spell of / madly in love with a Tennessee siren witch at a crossroads of powerful forces of light and dark that defy modern conceptions of natural reality, and, in the course of the last 24 hours, dropped her off at the airport and continued on your rambling way? Is good time to pass through the mouth of the Mammoth.
"Other humans are noisy. Especially humans who have reproduced and have their little reproductions accompanying them. I believe this may in fact be the first Class C intelligent species we have observed that has evidently enacted no laws regarding public obnoxion. Our man in Law was quite puzzled by this anomaly, and our man in Acoustics rather perturbed by it. He very much wanted to study the silence in this cave system, but, so obnoxed was he by these unnecessarily and disrespectfully noisy humans, he soon grew rather loud himself and very nearly blew our cover in the ensuing tizzy. Otherwise, our team had a delightful time studying the history, geography, geology, mycology, structure, climate, etc. Data attached. Note: Requesting psych eval for our man in Acoustics. I have spoken with some of the others and learned I am not alone in thinking he may well have his wires crossed."
When the Mammoth deigned spit us out, we found ourselves intuitively exploring a network of paths which led us to a number of noteworthy nodes. A high-energy area swirling with spirit(s), and there planted my hand in the earth, feeling and healing and hearing, grateful. On the bank of Green River and shortly thereafter found ourselves stripping down to my skivvies and wading into the formidable summer current. Blessèd is he who enters the waters. First, the river gifted me a green maple leaf with which to adorn my forehead. Then, a small snail emerged from the river hitched onto the back of my hand. Friendliest snail I've ever met in my life. Did not shy away at all but rather caressed and kissed my flesh for a while before apparently vomiting a goopy little mess on my finger. Waste or reproduction goop, I could not tell, but it was in no way offensive to me, and I knew it to be a gift from the snail, as from the river, as from the earth, as from the Great Spirit, and so I took the material on my tongue like piece of blotter paper. (Wait, this isn't how people pick up them brain-eating amoebas, is it?) A couple of parents with a couple of kids in a couple of kayaks come down the river and I throw rocks at them. Playfully, as if I'm trying, but barely trying, to sink their battleship. Boy clearly didn't know how to have no fun with strangers. Wonder where he got that from. From his ding dong ding bat father who won't entertain me, either, I wager. I mean, what more could you want on your family kayak trip than for a lanky, pale and naked skinhead in the river to throw rocks at you and make spitty explosion sounds? Come on, people. Grow up, will you?
After river, walk on, shoes off. Suddenly I am alone in the park. No noisy tourists in sight or in earshot. Quiet. And in this quiet I come upon a young doe browsing in the middle of the trail. She must see me, but she does not fear me. I am still wet with river. I am in no rush, and neither is she. In time, she leads, and I follow. I give her distance, she gives me proximity. She guides me off the park path and onto a slender deer trail through the brush. She stops to browse some more, and in the tranquility I hear a tantalizing rushing sound. I leave the sweet doe and follow the song of the water to a space that seems to be closed off to the public at present—which I never would have discovered myself had I not taken my time, entered the river, gone barefoot, honored deer—and it is a magical blue spring cascade and cave pool. Am I not blessed?
Rain clouds rolling in as the daylight fades. Picnic table in a gentle rain. Food given me by the love I left behind. Will I ever hear from her again? And it's then a few photos come through. From her. Am I...
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