Tag Archives: the sun

I fell into a hole I dug.

Digging is one of the more fun activities anybody can do in the forest. If you have movable limbs that are harder than soft soil, you can dig, and you should dig. The rush of cool soil lining the creases of fur between toes makes digging worth the effort and energy.

I learned recently, though, that reckless digging can have some harsh consequences.

I have no idea when I dug the hole that swallowed me whole. It must have been me, however. There is no other creature in the forest who can dig as big of a hole as I can (as you might be able to guess, I tried to blame the deer across the river, but his hooves are more likely to be used to judge me rather a fun activity like digging). I found the hole through a simple walk in the forest. I was staring up at the sky, admiring the clouds and the sun and the tops of trees, and then it got quite dark suddenly. Before I could figure out why, I was in a hole.

At first, I growled at the soil around me. Surely it was the soil’s fault, the fault of the forest, the fault of everything around me. I growled at the darkened sky, blaming its erratic and senseless change. I growled at everything I thought could be held accountable in even the slightest manner.

Then I growled at myself. It was then I realized who could have dug a hole so large and so randomly. It was my fault. It was my fault that this hole in the forest had tried to eat me, I practically fed myself to it with my irresponsible digging. There was no reason to take out my anger on the forest. The forest had not done anything. I wanted it to have done something. It would have been easier if the forest had done something wrong to me, but it had not. It was just me.

Once I got back on my paws, I shuffled out of the hole and got back to the safety of the forest floor. It was bright again. I shook off the dust from my fur and continued walking, heading to nowhere in particular but filled with a want to do better, whatever that meant for me, a bear.

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 moon bear to replace me while I sleep.

That the sun has such a lovely complement in the sky, a calm partner who takes care of the forest while the sun goes down to rest or plan or whatever else the sun might do when it falls, is something I have always admired. Sun goes down. Moon comes up. Moon goes down. Sun comes up. So on and so forth, in lovely sync. You can even sometimes see them both at the same time. It is one of the few predictable shows of the forest. The sun will go down. The moon will come up (though, once in awhile, it does not, but that is okay, everybody needs a break).

Sometimes I wonder if the sun or the moon even knows about their respective opposites, though. Does the sun know, or even care, that the moon picks up its work during the cool, gloomy nights of the forest? And the moon? Does it realize that we get most of our warmth and light from the sun?  Does it care?

I have a feeling that the two are completely unaware of one another, which makes me wonder about any possible complements I might have that I am unaware of. The idea of some moon bear out there in the forest, doing bear things that I do during the day just so the forest can have some kind of bearness going on even while I rest, is very intriguing to me. I would love to know that bearness similar to mine is being represented in the forest even when I am unable to represent it.

I stayed out late recently to try to find out. I walked about the forest as the surprisingly bright moonlight flooded the forest floor and guided me. It was nice to feel the cool night air, but it was unfortunate to not stumble upon any such moon bear. I found no bears at all. I found no moon-anything at all. The only moon there was was the moon itself. I entertained the idea of maybe all the trees I saw being moon trees because of their overwhelming darker, calmer colors, but then I remembered that was just because they were not bathed in sunlight.

I went back to my cave. I slept. I woke up wondering if I had just missed the moon bear. Maybe it was looking for me, the probably sun bear, at the same time I was looking for it. Maybe it was taking its rare break from its duties like the regular moon does ever so often. Maybe the moon bear exists and we are not meant to meet. Maybe it is possible to see us at the same time, at the right place, at the right angle, but we can never see one another. We just chase each other instead, never actually meeting.

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? 

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.

Sometimes I wonder what is inside of me.

sun heart

I can hear a lot of commotion in me. Things moving and beating and pumping. I do not know what any of it is or why it is there. I assume it is important, but I have no concrete way of knowing. I remember thinking about these things aloud in front of Rob (the squirrel) one day. I mentioned how I had no idea why my body made so much noise, and I said that I wanted to know what all of it was for. He told me that his body did the same, and that all living bodies do the same. Then he related a grotesque story to me about a time he slept next to an old, tired raccoon one winter night because it was warm. It was not warm the next day, and all the sounds and movement associated with being alive had ceased to be in the raccoon.

I asked Rob (the squirrel) why he had slept next to a raccoon in the first place. Was it just because of its warmth? His response was tossing an acorn at my nose and running.

His strange (but admittedly interesting) story did give me some insight as to why all this noise is inside me and all living things, evidently. Being alive meant noise. Having noise and motion and grumbles and tumbles inside of you meant you were alive.

But what is in there? I know whatever it is, it moves, but what is it? I have thought about this question for quite some time, and I have a few (completely unverified) theories.

One idea I have had is that everything in me (and presumably you as well) is just another smaller version of me. Perhaps there is a tiny me inside of me trying to understand what all the noise outside of me is. Maybe it too has the idea that the outside of itself is a bigger version of itself trying to figure out what is inside of itself. I like to think that there might even be a whole forest in there, something huge for the inside me to explore and understand. I hope there are not as many squirrels in there, however. The idea of a population of tiny squirrels inside of me scares me, though it would explain any time my body is ill in any way.

I have also considered the idea of there being a tiny sun in me. I like the sun, and it seems like an important part of the sky. It also keeps me warm, which is nice. Whatever is inside me seems to help keep me warm as well, and I believe it is safe to assume that all the bits and pieces inside of me are vital to making me me. Consider a tiny sun inside of your body, glowing and keeping everything warm. Does it go away at night like the sun out here does? Does a moon replace it, providing the smallest amount of light and warmth while I sleep? Perhaps the same inexplicable aspects of the sun that keep everything warm happen inside of me, all the time.

Of course, none of these ideas really hold up when I consider what little of the inside of me I have actually seen. Recently, I climbed a tree and misjudged a branch that I wanted to rest on. It snapped and I fell. It hurt, but I was fine except for a gash above my paw where I had landed on a very sharp rock. Red water flowed out of it. There was no tiny me or tiny sun gloriously oozing from my wound. It was just liquid, and it hurt.

I licked the opening above my paw, saddened by evidence contrary to everything I hoped about the inside of me. There might still be a sun inside of me. I still do not know for sure, but I do know it is nice to consider it.

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? 

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