Tag Archives: trees

Things usually do not match what is in my mind.

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I cannot see everything in the forest all the time. I have tried, but I am pretty much limited to just my field of vision, which is actually quite narrow when compared to the scope of the forest. Since I am limited in such a way, I usually rely on my thinking to conjure up images of things in the forest that are not near me. So, for example, I think about grasshoppers despite not really seeing grasshoppers very often. In my mind, they are green and a little brown and have strange, crooked legs and huge, shiny eyes. Usually, my mind accurately presents grasshoppers and their proportions and looks. When I see a grasshopper in the forest, it matches the grasshopper in mind.

That is a nice feeling. When my thinking is in line with the forest, everything is easier. It does not always work like that, though. Sometimes, my mind is horribly inaccurate when it comes to things in the forest, especially the feelings and difficult-to-describe moments in the forest.

I know how I feel in my mind when I think about the unpleasantness of the mocking sounds birds make when I slip in mud. I know that it makes me feel horrible and that their shrieking cries of contempt for me pierces the very bottom of my consciousness. It sits with me for days, and I can focus on very little else for quite some time. When I reimagine such an incident in my mind, it is the greatest tragedy to ever happen in the forest. It is the worst thing to ever happen to me. It is unbearable and horrible and I would never wish for it to happen again to me or any other creature.

It does happen again, though. It happens frequently, actually. In the moment, though, during the actual experience, it is not so tragic. It is still unpleasant, for sure. But it is not the end of the forest or the end of me. It is tolerable. Sure, the shrieking mocking that comes from the birds who witness it is no fun to endure, but in the moment, it is not so bad. I can live within that moment just fine. The strange thing, however, is that when I process that moment outside of itself, in my mind, isolated from the moment physically, I again think it is far worse than it really was.

And the cycle continues.

It works the other way around. Often great things that I adore in the forest let me down when I finally reach them. Berries are remembered with such intense fondness, but in reality, they are prickly and sometimes very sour. I still eat and enjoy them, but they do not live up to the status I have crafted in my mind.

Very few things ever do. So many things are exaggerated outside of themselves, and it is so incredibly difficult to truly realize that fact outside of my mind and reflective thinking. The real moment of experience is so often surprising, for better and for worse.

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

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It can be hard to learn from the forest.

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Everything that happens presents an opportunity to learn something new. When I climbed a tree after a storm, I learned that some branches are not meant to be put through trials of wind and bear weight back-to-back. When squirrels made shrill, mocking sounds at me when the tree branch broke, I learned that not all creatures in the forest have an investment in your well being or the well being of tree branches. And when I realized I had landed on an anthill, I learned that ants are fast and angry and bite so much.

That was all useful information to have, and I did certainly enjoy the process of learning new things in the forest. It feels good to feel enlightened after a good learning. It feels good to be a new, better informed bear than the bear you were just moments ago. It feels good to expand your bearness through forest experiences. It really does.

Until it does not feel good.

Sometimes the forest teaches crucial lessons in challenging, angry ways, and when it does, it does not feel good to learn from the forest. It is awful actually.

A bird shoved its beak into my eye. That had never happened before. I suppose, in a way, I learned that such a scenario was possible, but I do not know if I really needed to learn that such a scenario was possible. Maybe the growth of my bearness was so small that I had a hard time perceiving it, but I did not feel like any more of a bear for knowing the possibility of a bird piercing my eye. My bearness did not feel expanded. The only thing I did feel was a horrible throbbing sensation in my eye, which made it difficult to see for a few days.

Plenty of treacherous things like that happen in the forest everyday. Branches break and land on you. Wind kicks up dirt that blinds you. Humans shout at you. Dumpster lids land on your paws. Fish bite back. In a misguided attempt to intimidate, you get too close to the deer across the river’s antlers and he reacts in a very disrespectful but, honestly, understandable manner. Parts of your insides make a snapping sound and a ripping sound and another sound you are unable to describe but can definitely feel because of the deer’s reaction.

All of those things have lessons to teach. They provide forest wisdom in some way or another. You get to know more about yourself or the place you live in or other creatures. I do not know if any of those lessons are worth experiencing those things, though. It can be hard to see their value. It can be hard to figure out why the forest would even bother letting you experience those things. It can be hard to learn from the forest.

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.

I am just upset because I lost a very good stick today.

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missing-stick1

I try to keep my temperament even while I slide my paws around the forest floor. Generally, I am quite good at this. I am resilient, at least outwardly, to the sometimes incredibly harsh ways of the forest and its often times challenging inhabitants.

When squirrels make chuckling sounds I assume are directed at me, do I let out some angry roar as a response? No, of course not. Do I go back to my cave and steep myself into the sadness such chuckling causes me? Sure, but that is on my own time and in my own place. Nobody but me and the mood of my cave are affected by that kind behavior. When the deer across the river looks at me with his disgusting glances and makes ear piercing coughing sounds at me, do I let out an audible challenging response back? Well, sometimes, but that only affects the deer across the river and me. When birds wake me from a deep sleep, interrupting dreams of plastic bags filled with delicious sauces and dumpsters inside of clouds, do I shout at the birds? Of course not (except once and I am very sorry about that slip in character).

I try to stay composed. I really do. I try to stay composed, especially, around others. Today, though, it was not so easy. I was irritable. I was rash. I made growling sounds at a tree I accidentally bumped into, sounds I had never heard myself make. I bit down on log I found. Like really hard. With anger. I do not usually do that, but today was an exception.

Today was difficult.

I lost a stick this morning. This stick was no regular stick, though. It was a wonderful stick. I found it under a tree near my cave, sitting among some other forest debris. It would have gone unnoticed if I had not almost stepped on it. This stick was a perfect length. It had a lovely taste. It smelled like leaves. Good leaves. It fit into my mouth with such ease and without bits of its bark flaking off into the depths of my throat.

I carried it off. I had no idea what to do with it, so I just walked around with it. It felt like I was taking it on a parade throughout the forest, letting every creature who would look know how proud I was of my beautiful stick.

And then I set it down to take a drink of water from the river.

And it was gone. At first, obviously, I blamed the deer across the river, but he was nowhere in sight. I ran around, stomping my paws loudly as I cried out for my stick! Nothing. The stick never called back (as sticks never do). It was gone. Maybe some smart bird took it while I was drinking. Maybe the stick simply found a way to leave me. Maybe the forest floor took it and buried it someplace deep beneath the dirt.

I do not know.

But that is why I was upset today. That was why I growled and seemed angry. Hopefully, it did not disturb anybody too much. Hopefully, that stick is still out there somewhere.

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.

The pros and cons of mud: why do birds think it is okay to laugh at me?

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a-dumb-bird1

Why mud is good:

  • Smells neat
  • Feels neat in between toes
  • Feels neat in nose
  • You can lick it and nobody will yell at you
  • It tastes pretty okay
  • Even the chunky parts taste pretty okay
  • You can eat however much you want
  • You can keep eating it and nobody will yell at you
  • It is nice to not be yelled at
  • There has been a lot of yelling in my life recently, and it is nice to have a peaceful moment where nobody is yelling at me
  • Sometimes I wonder if I attract yelling, I ask myself if I do anything that warrants so much yelling, but that is unfair, I cannot help that I am whatever about me that gets me yelled at so often
  • Like yesterday, I was walking around some human caves and they were shouting for some reason and it seemed like maybe they were shouting at the glowing boxes they were near inside their caves but also I had a feeling it was about me?
  • Perhaps it was not about me, maybe the yelling from those humans had nothing to do with me
  • Maybe none of the shouting I hear is about me, maybe the creatures shouting are shouting because of something with them
  • Mud feels good on my belly
  • I need to learn that not all things that happen in the forest, even the things that I experience, are strictly about me, maybe things shout because they want to shout and there is nothing I can do about it
  • I like mud, and I like sloshing my feet about in it

Why mud is bad:

  • Oh no
  • I slipped
  • I slipped in the mud
  • But I like mud
  • Why would mud do this to me
  • No, mud did not do this, mud is just mud and I slipped
  • It is not mud’s fault
  • I fell again
  • And slipped
  • That has to be because of the mud
  • Why, mud
  • Why betray me
  • Please, mud
  • I think those birds saw me
  • Those birds definitely saw me
  • And they are laughing
  • I think they are laughing
  • And shouting
  • Shout-laughing
  • Or maybe they are making bird sounds
  • Mud has betrayed me and now birds are making fun of me
  • And possibly shouting at me
  • No
  • This is not about me
  • The mud is just mud
  • The birds are just making bird sounds
  • Or
  • Maybe
  • They are not
  • Maybe everything is against me
  • I am so saddened by mud
  • And birds
  • And shouting
  • And everything not being about me
  • Or everything being about me
  • Please
  • Mud can get stuck in your nose, and when it dries that is not pleasant

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.

An open letter to the deer across the river.

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the-deer-peace1

Dear deer,

I am a bear. In case you do not know which bear I am, I am the bear across the river who you sometimes glare at or spit towards. For as long as I have gone to the river (a favored place of mine for swimming, staring at my reflection, and trying not to drown when I catch fish), I have always seen you there. Sometimes you just drink the water from the river. Sometimes I am quite certain you are cursing me in some fashion. Sometimes you just stare at me. And I stare back.

There is a tense, ever present conflict between us that I am certain is rooted in a violent ancient history neither of us can truly comprehend. I sometimes feel like there has always been a deer and a bear staring at one another across that river, and the bear has always been a noble, beautiful beast, and the deer has always been an intolerable plague on the bear’s gentle sensibilities. I do not like admitting this, but I do not like you. You upset me. I can smell your rancid fur from across the river, and I would rather dip my snout into the muddy bank below than get any closer to your terrible stench. Also, your antlers are ridiculous.

I am sorry, and I take back the last comment (I am actually quite envious of your antlers because they are simply majestic). I do not want to add further damage to our already fragile relationship. My intentions are to do the opposite. I want to heal whatever ails between us. I want to learn to go to the river and not be disgusted by the horrible drool that drags from your filthy, surely disease ridden mouth.

I apologize again. That was uncalled for (though influenced by real experiences and feelings I have had).

I want to learn to accept you and everything you are, even the things about you that dig trenches of hate into the depths of my soul. I want to learn to share the river with you without you spitting at me and without me running from the horrible hacking sounds you make with your mouth and nose at the very same time.

We do not have to be friends, at least not at first. Perhaps never. But we do need to learn to accept one another. We need to learn from each other’s perspectives. I welcome you to my side of the river with open paws. Come drink with me one day. I promise I will not gag at your putrid smell or the way your strange teeth seem to be in a perpetual state of falling from your face.

And as for what you have done in the past to offend me, all is forgiven. As I am sure that you will forgive all I have done to offend you.

Thank you, deer, and I hope to see you soon,

A bear (across the river)

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

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What if I am the last bear?

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last-bear1

I have not seen another bear in a long time, and my total bear sightings is really quite small (unless you count times I have seen myself (which actually sometimes leads to me thinking I am seeing another bear (which is scary))). Of course, the most likely of scenarios is that the forest is much much larger than I could ever even fathom, so the bears are out there just not around me.

Still…

I worry…

What if I am the last bear?

The thought has kept me restless many a night in my cave. I stare at the black, pointy wall of my cave and wonder how similar it must be to the future of bearness and bears in general… Bleak and… pointy. I am not sure what that could mean, but it scares me.

Even though I am just one, single bear, I often feel like I have more to contribute to the forest in general. Surely there is forest or bear wisdom I can pass down to other bears or even other creatures of the forest. How will anyone ever learn my perfected technique of rubbing my fur in leaves until it is has the balanced amount of fuzziness? Surely someone in the forest, especially a younger bear, could benefit from such knowledge. If I were to perish (probably by deer) without sharing this knowledge, and I am truly the last bear, what would happen to that information? Where would it go? Would it venture off to wherever I would go? Would it fill the empty space between the trees in the forest, waiting to be learned by some willing and interested creature? Would it just stop being?

If I am the last bear, then is there even a point to my personal continued bearness? Do I even need to be a bear if my legacy of being a bear stops with me? I like being a bear (though I do not have any basis of comparison, to be honest), but something about being the final bear of all bears upsets me. It makes me wonder if I am what all bears before me were leading up to or if those bears before me even cared. Maybe they all thought they were the last bears at some point. Maybe they just kept being bears because that was what they knew how to do. To be bears.

I am sure it is just some strange anxiety that is coiled at the base of my bear head somewhere that keeps this idea alive. The chances of me being the final bear seem low. There have to be more bears out there. I am sure. 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? 

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.

I hope my ears look nice today.

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bear-ears1

In the forest, looks can be very important. Some creatures use looks to hide from other creatures. Some creatures use looks to impress other creatures. Some creatures are identifiable primarily because of their looks (smells play a big role in this, too (actually, smells play a big role in all of the uses of looks, but that is another subject for another time)). Almost everything in the forest has a perceivable look. Except for the wind. And air. And everything I have not been able to see or experience so I am not sure it exists. So, really, just many things in the forest have looks, and those looks are generally important.

I have looks. I can look at some of them by looking at myself. My paws, for example. I can see them and their looks, and I am generally satisfied with both. I can also see my belly when lie down on my back. I can only see the back of my back, the far end. I can see the looks of my snout if I cross my eyes and stare for a very long time. I do not do this often because it can cause my whole head to hurt and also it makes me bump into things. I can see the looks of my claws and a lot of my fur. They look nice.

I cannot, however, look at the looks of my ears. I cannot see my ears. I have tried. I have tried rolling my eyes toward the direction of my ears for so long and with so much concentrated effort that it has made me sick. I have tried pulling my ears toward my eyes, to the point of where I have accidentally pulled clumps of fur from my ears and into my eyes.

I cannot do it. I cannot see my ears.

I have, a number of times, stopped drinking from the river to see my reflection in the calming water. That reflection feels distorted, though. It waves a bit. It gives off a color that I am pretty sure is not my actual color. Besides, even in the best water-reflection conditions, I can still just barely get a decent view of my ears. I have, on a number of occasions, splashed my nose into the river while trying to get closer to the surface for a better view of my ears. Almost drowning for the sake of seeing my ears is not something I am proud of.

I always hope they look nice. I am not sure why. I do not think having not nice looking ears would drastically change my life in any important manner. If anything, my concern for the looks of my ears has affected my life far more than the actual looks of my ears have.

Maybe it does not matter if my ears look nice. Perhaps I should be content with just having ears. I tell myself that often. Be glad to even have ears. But still… I cannot help but to hope they look nice.

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.

Here is a list of things I found (and maybe just thought I found?) while digging in the snow.

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snow-bear-2

Here is a list of things I found (and maybe just thought I found?) while digging in the snow the past few days:

  • Rocks (many rocks in many different shapes and many different sizes and I ate about three)
  • Very sad looking grass (I ate about three)
  • Frozen rabbit skeleton (tried to chew on but hurt mouth)
  • Leaves (sad looking (I ate about three)
  • More snow (so much (where does it all come from/go?)
  • Ice (licked for a very long time, regretfully)
  • Less snow (this was a strange turn of events)
  • A can
  • Another can
  • A third can
  • There have been far too many cans
  • What I thought was a fourth can but actually turned out to be another rock (again, many rocks)
  • Part of a plastic shovel that did not do a good job being a shovel maybe
  • Part of a rodent tail (not Rob (the squirrel)’s, thankfully)
  • An apple?
  • Nope, not an apple
  • I do not know what that was
  • It was definitely not an apple
  • Whatever it was upset my stomach
  • A good place to take a nap
  • A bad place to take a nap
  • More ice (licking occurred again)
  • Twigs that are frozen solid (reserved for chewing at a later date)
  • Very flat leaves
  • What looks like deer fur
  • Wait…
  • Where is he?
  • The deer across the river?
  • Where?
  • He has been here, has he not?
  • Maybe he did not survive the storm
  • There is more fur…
  • …but not enough to make me believe the deer across the river met his demise
  • He is somewhere nearby
  • I can almost smell him
  • I found the river
  • The river is mostly ice
  • I do not see any fish
  • I do not see the deer
  • Did the deer abscond with all the fish?
  • Why would he do this?
  • Because he knows I like fish, that is why
  • I will wait for him to return
  • …
  • …
  • …
  • I fell asleep?
  • He has not returned
  • Dumpster snow
  • An actual apple
  • So many apples
  • Why are there so many apples in this snowy dumpster
  • I will eat them
  • The deer
  • These are my apples
  • Please
  • Leave me alone
  • What a horrible sound
  • Why do you make this sound?
  • How?
  • Running
  • Forever running
  • I do not like the snow

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.

I fell down a hill.

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falling-down-a-hill-2

I fell down a hill and into some very pointy and angry and horrible vines and sticks and forest debris. My paws were carefully stepping down the falling forest floor. I do not remember where my paws were taking me or why, but I do remember the feeling of my front paws slipping and sliding and pulling the rest of my body with them as my belly slammed into the ground, my fuzzy fur collecting the chunks of dirt and dislodged tree roots all around.

The wind fought my eyes as I slid. It took the chunks of dirt and dislodged tree roots from my belly fuzz and hurled them toward my face. I was blinded for a moment, so I was not ready for the full force of my entire me slamming into a mound of everything pointy the forest had to offer. Vines with little prickly things on them. Sticks broken on every end. The sharpest, worst rocks. So many pointy things. Things I have no words for other than pointy and angry.

There is a lapse in my memory. Maybe it was because I could not see. Maybe I was thinking of something better than where and what I was right then and there. Maybe I napped? It is a very real possibility that I napped for awhile. What I do remember is feeling the struggle of trying to get out of the vicious pile of hatred I had slid into. I remember trying to wiggle my paws and my belly as I used all of the energy I could muster to pick myself up and not be in the vicious pile of hatred I was stuck in.

The vines twirled around my paws. The sticks were poking through my fur. Something (maybe something alive) got stuck in my nose until I violently sneezed it out. For a moment, I do remember this, I knew I was going to be stuck in that horrible prison of forest leftovers forever. I even briefly considered accepting it, closing my eyes, and napping until all the painful little bits that held me down evaporated.

I did not, though. I began to bite and claw and make little growling sounds I had never heard myself make before. I kept fighting at the things that held me until I felt myself coming free. Finally, I wrestled it all away from me. I got on all four of my paws and ran away from it all. I kept running until my paws hurt too much to keep going, which was not very far. I was still able to see the miserable pile. I had gotten over it. I was free. I sat for a moment, catching my breath, staring at what I had escaped. It was not easy, but I had gotten through 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

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.

Here are some things I had time to consider as I fell from a tree I climbed.

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time-bear-2

Things I had time to consider as I fell from a tree I climbed:

  • The wind seemed very sharp
  • The ground looked so soft from up high
  • The branch that I thought was interesting looking from below was not nearly as interesting looking when I got to it
  • No amount of arm flapping would cause me to fly
  • Though I certainly tried
  • Why do I not get to fly?
  • I do not think birds should get to fly when most of the rest of us do not, it is strange and does not seem fair
  • But birds do not have front legs or paws or fur, so maybe flying was their trade-off?
  • The size of the sky does not seem to change while falling
  • The size of the ground does definitely seem to change while falling
  • Moments of tremendous unease seem to last a very long time, which is, again, a very strange and not very fair thing that happens no matter what, always
  • When moments like that stretch out, I am forced to linger on the thoughts and actions that made the moment difficult to begin with
  • And I have to, in a way, relive an awful thing while the awful thing is happening for what feels like a forever
  • I do not like that and it does not seem fair
  • Because even if I get all the time that is possible to have to think about one particular thing, I will be unable to change it or alter it or even really stop it from clouding my thoughts, so I am being forced by some unknown thing to sit and stare at myself inside me forever even as the ground gets closer and closer to my snout
  • The number of leaves I would likely fall onto
  • Which looked to be about ten?
  • Which was not enough leaves to constitute a safe or even mildly comfortable landing
  • That maybe trees do not like me?
  • Which is why I am often falling from them or things on them are falling from them and landing on me?
  • A very brief, fleeting moment of nothing right before my paws endure the shock of beginning my landing
  • Which was actually nice
  • And very relaxing

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.