Mood For the Day
Today's Mood on Thu, 25 Dec 1997
The view from the top of the mountain was truly breathtaking. Mark could see half of the county, and a fair chunk of the neighboring counties as well. It's probably best not to go too closely into what was going through Mark's head at the moment, but it was probably something along the lines of "ooh, there's my house."
The way down was much easier and more enjoyable than the way up. He followed deer paths and, when they vanished, the riverbed. (It still seems a bit pretentious to call that trickle a river, but Mark had seen it when it was roaring and therefore treated it with some respect.)
The deer paths were much more pleasant, and they took him past areas of the forest he hadn't seen on the way up. It was very enjoyable. When he came once again to the table by the third waterfall, he finished the rest of his lunch and washed off again.
He walked down farther. As he passed by innumerable trees, two caught his attention. They were entwined in a back-room embrace, lips to lips and legs crawling up the sides of their partner's. The man's hands were groping the woman's breasts, and the kissing was like the final gasps of a dying animal. As he followed the trunks up into the sky, he saw the female tree dominating the male tree with a hand outstretched, blocking the reticent branches of the weaker tree. Thus do we find the wages of lust, he thought. We are confined by our own appetites.
Mark was interrupted from his observation by an unexpected fall down the side of the hill. Although he had sworn he had placed his feet carefully (and, coming to it, he wasn't walking when he fell, either -- just standing still), something caught his heel and sent him sailing down the side of the hill. When he had regained his balance and checked for breaks or bruises he looked back at the trees. They looked just as hideous and appalling as they did up close, only this time they were outlined by even more screaming naked foliage just as they all were surrounded by the more quiet, flowering and leafy bay and oak trees. He nodded and moved on, a bit more carefully this time.
As he neared the main road, he passed a another family. This family seemed much younger. The daughter smiled at him and lowered her eyes; her father, white-haired yet lean, followed with distrustful glances and courteous words. The two youngest came immediately after, tottering on short legs and taunting each other in joyful romp. There was no mother present.
Last came the eldest, although young he was too: he stared at Mark for some time, polite yet uncertain of what he saw. Indeed he had some justification on his side: after his fall, Mark himself looked like he might well have been one of the trees they were passing, just wakened up and out for a quick stroll.
As he passed them he thought maybe he heard the sound of a bamboo flute off to the left. "I heard it too, Daddy!" he heard one of the little ones shout behind him. Mark decided to investigate: he was still a bit woozy, and maybe didn't need to drive just yet. Besides, why did the child behind him just echo his thoughts? It was too surreal to overlook.
The sound was indeed that of a bamboo flute, just over the ravine. Mark stayed a while and listened to the white-haired man playing the flute, serene and content as the sun was to be going down over the valley. Presently the flute changed to a didjeridou, and as Mark listened he became aware of how these stranger instruments were able to be used for communication. He could almost hear it speaking its heart out to anyone close enough to listen.
Mark listened for quite a while, and then shook himself from the cold and went back along the path. Automatically he crossed over the last place the river crossed, and walked in quiet reflection until he heard the sound of a young voice saying the same words he had said and heard so often as a child, playing street games: "Game on! Come on you guys, hit it in here ..." Mark looked up and sure enough saw a house just beyond the last stand of trees.
He quietly looked around him as he walked to his car, savoring each glance. The delightful holiday was over, and the time had come once again to resume his position in the company of humans, in the society of the State of California in the United States of America.
The sun set and the day was over.
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