Imaging God, Following Jesus

 

    Life and death in the woodlands

PART 1: Stories from my adventures in the woods

May 2016. She crept up into the old leaky horse trailer. It had been raining on and off for a few days now. It had been at least five days since the last time the property owners had come up to the pasture to check in on her. It would be two more still till they'd return. She was at a pasture in a small town a little but an hour past Eugene OR. In all, there were about 30 animals, horses and mules and donkeys too. The pasture land ran along Bureau land management woods, in the PNW known for its rain and pine trees. Already she'd been sleeping in the pasture for a few months. It was nearing the end of spring and there were beginning to be more pleasant sunny days than rainy days. But even still the grey sky was not uncommon. What compelled her out the door of comfort and security and into the woods is for another story.

She had brought with her the bare essentials. No cell phone, no wifi. No bed or strong walls, no strong roof. Some Bread and jam and peanut butter, some crackers and trail mix and marsh-mellows. Not healthy at all, but easy to ration over weeks on end. And no tent. Instead she came only with a large blue tarp. She built a simple lean to; bound two forked sticks together and another two. And found a long thick branch for a ridgepole to bridge these together, which she draped the large tarp over. She place branches of pine on the outside leaning against to kept the tarp down, so not to be picked up by the wind. Then placed rocks at the four corners and some down the middle length to ground it further. She closed up the backside where her feet would lay with parachute string. But this left the front slightly open at all times. She set a bucket at the back corner to collect rain water, and in the mornings drank the dew off the pine needles.

*

The shelter didn't close well. On dry nights she would peel back one side and flip it over and sleep beside a small fire and its dying embers. She'd wake up covered in white ash, like a pure white blanket. The stars were very bright here. Visible, away from city light pollution. She could see Orion and ursa major and minor, tracking there movement as the months progressed.

    

    She was cold and damp for almost a full week of rain. She would make pine needle tea daily (except on days when it was too wet for fire) and scavenge for wild blackberries and strawberries. There was little in the way of variety for edible greens. But chickweed was readily available and a few other common plants such as nettle, wood sorrel, plantain, clover and wild ginger. Her water capture was full each day, but with endless days of rain, the cold and damp were beginning to bear down on her nerves. She hadn't been able to make a fire to dry her clothes and bones. She didn't mind the solitude, but this would bear down on her by the end of a few months too. And she didn't mind the rain and cold, but everything was too wet for her that day. 

       She was there for this reason, in part testing her nerves by placing herself in an uncomfortable and wild living situation. Even though trying to make the woods home she sought more civilized comforts from time to time. Usually when life situations were hardest, too much rain and cold, or too low food rations and even too many days in solitude were just that, too much to bear. She was no expert survivalist, just a girl who liked to camp and ride horses.

*

The old horse trailer was long and rusted with holes in many spots. It had long windows on one side opposite the sliding door. And a back door that was kept closed except for when a fresh load of hay was loaded in. She hadn't wanted to rely on it. But the moment she entered, she felt relief and gratitude. It was warm compared to outside in the wind and rain. Her habitation could not keep her completely safe from these. But the hay bails provided warmth and comfort. This was where they stored hay for the horses and mules. As you may imagine, the hay bails were more comfortable than the cold hard ground, for the dry grass held both warm and weight.

The rain was not going to let up anytime soon.  The rain and solitude appeared to be staying for a few days more. She knew she would take the welcome offer to come down the mountain when the owners came up. So she might have a taste of civilized comfort a few days, shower and sleep in a warm bed, eat a home cooked dinner and have a roof over her head and friends to talk to. But for now, she was content and pleased here under the protection of steel and in warmth of hay. 

Though it was only mid-day, Soma, her little black cat returned to the site and found her easily. This was her companion while living in the woods. She would often move camp throughout the woods and Soma would never fail to find her. But in this case, the trailer might have just been a shelter Soma made use of often with out her knowing. Soma's habit was to wander and disappear for most the day. Returning in the evenings when the sun would set and staying for a few hours; to disappear in the late hours and return early when the sun was rising and stay for a few hours. Sometimes, for little adventures in the high sun noon hours, Soma would follow her to the pasture gate and watch her distribute the hay in piles for the horses but never entered. Sometimes she would follow the girl down to the creek to collect water if it hadn't rained for days. Sometimes she would sit a top Charlie the donkeys back as the girl walked him through trails, preparing them all for a back packing trip that would never end up happening. Soma's favorite spot when spending time with the girl was on her shoulders. But most often, little Soma was having her own secret adventures that the girl only wondered about.

The girl was reading now. In the old testament, contemplating the the Torah, the way offered to get to know the Lord, to be in relationship with him and honor him. It was another time and another place. She wondered and mulled over these thoughts daily, curious and fascinated. She read with gusto the stories of another people and another divine relationship. She'd read it all before but, these stories seemed more alive and cutting deeper than those other times. Something was gnawing to be found out. Strange how a book once read can feel so different at another time, and something else stand out so much more than before. Such a strange thing the words do to the heart and mind. 

Soma curled up beside her. Today was the rainiest day with very heavy rainfall. But they were warm and together and they were both content. She readjusted to scoot out of the way of a few holes that were dripping water. 

*

The hay was stacked in rows and columns and packed in tight. She had two rows underneath her legs and another underneath her bottom. Then many columns and rows behind and the closest she used to rest against like a headboard. Just past this closest column the trailer was so full there was no space to fit between the floor and the roof. Now as it darkened, though it must have still been only around mid/late afternoon, the girl lit a candle and the flame was soothing.

 She didn't want to give up reading just yet and decided to take a little extra rationed candle time as reading luxury. She noticed then that a mouse had climbed up onto the row of hay she and the cat were resting on. Soma lazily played with the mouse. Batting at it only when it came close enough without getting up or making much effort. She didn't seem all that interested. If the mouse ran off she wouldn't have chased it. But it seemed intent on getting past the cat. Soma disinterested, still pawed at it every time it came near to try to pass on her left or on her right.  

Mice and snakes and spiders and ants and beetles and birds and all sorts of creatures often came into the tent. It didn't seem strange to encounter them in this space either. But something was telling of this mouses behavior. I wouldn't understand till later when its death would tell me the hidden motive. It was a cute little grey thing but so it goes. 

When living in nature, these creatures become normal and not worth giving much attention too. They'll go on with their day just as I'll go on with mine. In the woods we are all home. We are all sharing hearth and table. I thought about the stark contrast that this was to civilized living with all its sterile and clean spaces. A creature such as these was an abomination in that place....