A few more human questions with a few more bear answers

Hello, I am a bear. I like to answer questions about being a bear sometimes. Thank you for reading, and I hope you learn more about bears, the forest, and other topics. (Also, if you wish to see them, I have answered other questions in the past).


Q:

A:

I would like to wear a hat that compliments my ears and/or nose in some way. I once wore a bird as a hat and it did not go well. The bird was not complimentary in any way… unless cawing loudly and pecking my face is how birds give compliments.


Q:

A:

Thank you. It is nice to be loved. Or even liked. Or even not eaten on a regular basis, which is something I feel like we should appreciate more. Also, I love you, too. I am a bear.


Q:

A:

Because I am a bear?


Q:

A:

This is truly difficult to answer. Both furriness and fluffiness have their benefits and very few drawbacks. At the end of the day, I would have to say that being furry is slightly better than being fluffy, though. Fur keeps you warm when it is cold outside. Fluff, while aesthetically pleasing, makes it difficult to fit in certain unwatched garbage cans.


Q:

A:

No.


Q:

A:

One of two things is happening here: either these bears are engaging in an ancient ritual that will awaken a slumbering terror that has not roamed the forest in a millennia OR they are having a birthday party. Either is plausible. Both involve dumpster bread and dancing.


A:

Sometime clouds get very upset and water falls from the sky. I wish I understood more about this phenomenon, but I can tell you that rain is wet. It can be warm or cold. It turns dirt into mud, which is very nice on hot days. It also makes everything soggy, which is good and bad depending on what gets soggy (fur: bad, dirt: good [see: mud]).


Q:

A:

I cannot speak for all bears, but I often dream about the following:

  • Trees
  • Squirrels
  • The sky
  • Falling
  • Falling from the sky
  • Oh, no, why am I falling?
  • Embarrassing moments
  • Marshmallows
  • Naps
  • The slow-creeping existential dread that haunts my mind and leaves me breathless when I wake up screaming
  • Sticks
  • I do not like falling
  • Rocks

Q:

A:

Yes. Yes. But I still like them.


Q:

A:

Rabbit skeletons appear to be all the same until you really start to dig into the details of each one. Of course, that is part of the fun of collecting them. Also, you can chew on them, which is very nice.


Q:

A:

In regard to -ness: I do not think anyone can define your -ness other than you. If somebody tries to define your -ness, it is no longer your -ness as it becomes their -ness, which is a completely different -ness that is not you.

In regard to chipness: Most chips I find are covered in some kind of dumpster sauce, so they are never crunchy. They always taste good, though.


Q:

A:

The forest is indifferent no matter how much you want it to not be. Sometimes that is good. Sometimes that is bad.


Q:

A:

Bread. Bread is amazing and soft but also crunchy? I do not know how bread does it, but it does. It is very hard to find, and when I do find it, it is usually being eaten by rats or birds, but when I can get a single piece of bread for me and just me, it is an absolutely wonderful moment. I love bread.


Q:

A:

I think you can obtain an any kind of -ness no matter who or what you are as any -ness is who or what you are if that makes sense. I do not know. I am a bear.


Q:

A:

I do not know what that is, but when I do not want something to fall, I do not do the following:

  • Leave it near an unsteady edge
  • Drop it
  • Let it down

Q:

A:

I do not know because I have never been an anything else, but when I see how hard ants work on a daily basis, I begin to think being a bear is probably easier than being an ant.


Q:

A:

This is very confusing but also fuzzy, which is good.


Q:

A:

He knows what he did, and I do not think there is any need to discuss the matter beyond that. He knows.


Q:

A:

It is very nice. It is fuzzy and soft and wavy and makes me feel confident and nice. It also contributes to the magnificence of my ears.


Q:

A:

Yes, but only in pieces, and it hurts.


Q:

A:

There is no one way to be a bear or to be or have or obtain a -ness of any kind. Developing that -ness is a personal journey that is long and difficult and confusing and has sidetracks and naps, but it is an important journey because it is who you are.


Q:

A:

  • The ones with prickly leaves
  • The dumpster ones
  • The other dumpster ones
  • The ones with lots of dirt
  • The purple ones

Q:

A:

Yes, thank you for asking.


Q:

A:

At least one (me, I am a bear).


Q:

A:

Probably the easiest way to be a bear is to be a bear, but you can also pretend to be a bear by pretending to be a bear. Anybody can do it.


Q:

A:

I live in the forest.


Q:

A:

I do not know if I am qualified to answer that question, but I do know the things you do for love are going to come back to you one by one.


Q:

A:

I do not have a hat, but if I did and a rabbit stole it, I would not do much because rabbits are very fast and small and can hide, so I would probably try to rationalize me losing my hat to the rabbit by telling myself that the rabbit needed the hat more than I did, but I would secretly be very upset about losing my hat.


Q:

A:

Not particularly. I do know sticks come in a variety of shapes, but I cannot qualify them. I am a bear.


Thank you for reading this Q&A. I hope you got to know more about me, being a bear, the forest, and other things. If you asked me a question but I did not answer it, I am sorry and I will try harder next time.

Thank you.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site? The newest adventure is all about safety!

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

Advertisements

Bearku from a bear for a you.

I hope you enjoy
these bearku I made for you.
I think they are nice.

***

I found a sharp rock.
It bit me inside my mouth.
Why did it do this?

***

The river has fish.
The grass has all the insects.
Where do I belong?

***

I do not eat snails.
They are simply too crunchy,
but slugs feel just fine.

***

Why am I a bear
when so many are not bears?
Can’t we all be bears?

***

Cold air finds a way
to let you know it is here.
Where is my hot air?

***

Human caves: pros, cons
Pros: quite warm, almost no deer
Cons: so much yelling

***

It is hard to trust
when even the sun and moon
can’t stay in one place.

***

Tress do not have names.
But I will call this one Ted.
Ted seems very nice.

***

Grass is in my fur.
How did it get stuck in there?
Now I am green-ish.

***

Bugs crawled in my mouth.
I did not choose to eat them,
but here we are now…

***

Of all the bear parts
that I have on my bear self,
my ears are the best.

***

No really: my ears.
Look at them, aren’t they so nice?
I love them so much.

***

Look at how fuzzy
each of my ears really is.
They are just so good.

***

I hate to press on this.
But please, just look at my ears.
Just look at the fuzz!

***

Okay, I will stop.
I promise, after this one…
…they are so fuzzy.

***

I live among trees.
I am so small around them.
What lives among me?

***

Where have I not been
in this infinite forest?
This dumpster feels new.

***

If you keep digging
and digging and digging and
digging: you have dug.

***

One last one, I swear:
My ears are always fuzzy.
Can you believe that?

***

 

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site? The newest adventure is all about safety!

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

Letting others get to know me.

I try to collect the stories and experiences of others in the forest, but I almost always fail. No matter how much I ask others in the forest (trees, rocks, raccoons, the sky, the moon, squirrels, not deer), my questioning is practically always met with nothing resembling explained experiences or stories of life in the forest. I might get the occasional hiss or screech, but those stories are hard to comprehend, difficult to put together.

My constant failure has led to me feeling like I cannot truly understand any other creature in the forest. Of course, they do not owe me their forest stories, but not knowing any other creature’s story makes me feel all the more isolated when I consider my own story. I then had a thought: why not share me own story? If other forest creatures are unable or unwilling to share their stories, maybe they would like to know mine instead?

It was something I had certainly tried in the past, but I had never really put a whole lot of energy into it. I have told my tales to trees and rocks and other things that would listen, but never with intent and cohesion. Past trials of sharing my stories were much more informal, almost as though I had been speaking to myself. I wanted to try something new, though.

I decided that I would share important life events with my fellow forest creatures. They would be structured and short, easily consumable by a listening party. Once I had my stories straight, I would go about the forest and share them with whoever would listen.

I decided these three stories about my life in the forest would be best to share given their brevity and importance to me:

  • The time a squirrel bit my ear and I thought it was a bug until I saw the squirrel and realized it was a squirrel
  • The time I tripped over a stick and landed on another stick that broke
  • The time I tried to eat my shadow

These stories were good and brief. I walked around the forest, reciting them as I had prepared them, hoping some forest creature would hear it and be interested. Hoping my story could heard. After a long time with absolutely no recognizable feedback other than one bird staring at me rudely, I realized there was a possibility that I was not the only one doing this. What if every bird song was a story about being a bird? What if every howl I heard at night was a scary story from some scary creature? What if every snapping twig was that twig’s story?

What if I just could not understand the stories every creature was telling?

And what if my stories were drowned out among all those other stories?

It was a strange breakdown of communication. I did not know how to understand my fellow forest creature, and they did not seem to know how to understand me. For now, I suppose I will keep listening. Maybe I will start to those stories together. And once I do, maybe I can figure out how to share my own.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site? The newest adventure is all about safety!

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

A startled rat shattered my reflection.

I find a lot of comfort in dumpsters. Whether it comes from the delicious sauces I find inside of them or the comfortable old chunks of rubber and cardboard I find outside of them, dumpsters provide a miraculous world of easy living and sauces. It is why I am always seeking new dumpsters or revisiting old ones. They are comfortable and nice, even when they are filled with other forest creatures seeking refuge and sauces.

I recently found something very strange and unfamiliar to me in a dumpster: my reflection. I have seen my me before in the river and shiny things I find around the forest, but never had I seen my me so clearly and pronounced as I had in this reflection. It was strange to see my me in such clear detail. I noticed the individual little hairs that made up my fur and the tiny splashes of dumpster sauces that kept bits of my fur knotted together. I could see the tiny holes that covered my nose and the glistening wetness that made it shine. My eyes were big and dark and looked infinite in their depth. My ears were fuzzy, which was nice to see.

I then noticed the expression on my bear face, made up by my bear nose and bear mouth and bear eyes and even my excellently fuzzy ears. My expression was much sadder looking than I felt. Did I always look like that? Did I walk around the forest carrying such an empty and downtrodden expression? Is this how other forest creatures see me all the time? Even trees? Do trees see me like this all the time?

Before I could explore my expression further, the me I was staring at shattered into countless pieces, making countless little mes scattered around the dumpster. It was a rat, creatures who frequently spend time in dumpsters. The rat must have been startled and then knocked my me reflection over. The rat knocked me out of my self obsessed reflection thinking and I went back to looking for more sauces in the dumpster, but for the rest of the day I could not stop thinking of my expression. How it did not represent how I felt. How it made me wonder if the bear I think I am matches up to the bear I appear to be. How I am not even sure if it matters if those things match. And how if it does matter, there does not seem to be much I can do about it.

I did, however, find a very interesting green sauce. It was spicy and left me very thirsty.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site? The newest adventure is all about safety!

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

Thinking of the -ness of others.

Bearness is a topic I have exhausted time and time again and for good reason: I still do not fully understand it. I do not know how or why understanding bearness could matter. I do not know what to do with an understanding of bearness. I do not even know if I am correctly understanding bearness, whether it be bearness in general or my own, specific, bearness. I could probably explore the topic of bearness forever and ever until I am not a bear anymore (though I hope that never happens because I like being a bear).

But for all the energy and time I put towards being a bear, I have done little thinking about the -ness of others. I have, of course, explored the surface level of others’ -ness. Trees, for example, have a treeness, I am sure, and I have spent time pondering what that might be like. I have wondered if trees count their branches and their leaves and their acorns as part of their treeness or if each part of a tree gets its own -ness (leafness, acornness, branchness, etc.). I have also definitely wondered what trees think of themselves and their place in the forest and whether or not they think about how I might think about those things.

However, when it comes to long-term, truly thoughtful reflection on treeness, I have never really wrestled with it. The same goes for pretty much any -ness: squirrelness, dirtness, dumpsterness, skyness, sunness. Everythingness. I have not invested the kind of dedication I have invested in my own -ness to any of these things.

Part of that is because none of these things will discuss their own -ness with me. Even when I ask, I am almost always met with silence and, in one very unfortunate incident, loud crashing sounds (I knocked over the dumpster (sorry)).

But that is no excuse, I suppose. Just because something will not discuss its -ness with me does not mean I should remain oblivious to that thing’s -ness. There must be better ways to understand the -ness others. And in doing so, perhaps I can even learn a little more about my own -ness. Maybe part of bearness is trying to understand everyone-else-ness. Or at least trying to do so.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site? The newest adventure is all about safety!

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

A new day for everyone in the forest no matter what forever.

The forest keeps going.

No matter how much anybody (me, trees, the sun, grass, angry hawks, scheming squirrels, forceful ants) tries to halt the forest, it keeps going.

It is quite daunting to consider. The forest will keep moving even when you need a break. Even if the last thing you want is for the forest to continue its neverending, unceasing, cyclical grind, the forest will not mind you. It will persist with or without you.

With the forest’s attitude toward pushing onward and upward indefinitely, it is very easy to feel left behind or even swept aside by the forest. I often look at where I am and where I have been and ask myself why I feel lost or disconnected from everything in the forest. What have I done wrong? What have I missed? Why does everything press on without me? Does the forest not like bears? Does it reject bearness? Do I have a smell about me the forest does not enjoy?

The good thing is that these feelings are overshadowed by the massive possibilities that come with the neverending forest. Yes, the forest moves on no matter what, but so can you, or any other creature in the forest. Even when you feel completely removed from the forest’s ongoing trajectory of chaos, it is surprisingly easy and simple to rejoin or, at least, go forward in your own manner (for me this means progressing my bearness, however I might interpret that). The forest’s seemingly apathetic view toward your own pursuits can be played to your benefit. Just as the forest does not seem to care enough to wait for you when you are down, it also does not seem to mind when you rejoin and get back on your path. It is actually quite easy join the forest’s ongoing goingness, regardless oh how long you have been unable to do your own goingness.

I hope, like the forest, I can keep going. I hope it leads to me understanding my bearness and the -ness of those around me. And then I hope I get to keep going.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site? The newest adventure is all about safety!

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

Did I find the raccoon or did the raccoon find me?

Sudden and unexpected forest encounters are… well… actually quite expected. As a forest dweller, I have become accustomed to random encounters in the forest and all the confusing and sometimes upsetting effects of them. Even though they happen often, I still get taken aback by these encounters. Even when I happen upon a sort of creature I have seen time and time again, I still find myself jumping and running and losing my composure.

The last time I saw such a common creature, I had a realization. I found a raccoon. I was going through a wonderful dumpster when I decided to check under it. Sometimes I find interesting sauces and bugs under dumpsters that sit on blocks on mutilated trees, so I was excited to look around.

My snout was met with a tiny vicious paw.

The culprit was a tiny raccoon who was scared and angry and hissing. I had found the little beast. Not on purpose. It surprised me and I ran until my paws hurt and the moon took place of the sun. It was a difficult evening.

But as I thought about the situation, I thought about the raccoon. I had found the tiny creature, but had the raccoon found me? It had to have found me. What was it like for the raccoon? Did the raccoon hear my heavy steps? Did my curious snout startle the raccoon? That would explain its violent reaction. I felt awful. That experience had to have been as traumatizing for the raccoon as it had been for me.

I went back to the dumpster to check on the raccoon. The creature was gone, and I was sad about that. I wanted to ask the raccoon about our shared experience. I wanted to know more about the raccoon. I do not blame the raccoon for running, but I wish I had the opportunity to see me through raccoon eyes. Maybe I can be more aware of myself in the future, and maybe that will lead to some raccoon coming to check on my when I run off into the forest, terrified.

Maybe.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site? The newest adventure is all about safety!

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.