a summer night magical moment

1994 – weighed down by the depressive effects of interferon/chemotherapy and the stress of having a malady about which not much was known at the time. Further, trying to bear it stoically, without seeking the support and encouragement of friends. Finally I had to break down and share it with friends. I must have been reaching the point of tears and/or being a jerk. I’ve learned a lot about trust, openness and honesty since then.

It’s an impressionistic memory, a sort of tone poem, in the style of Jack Kerouac’s “sketching” writing style; which I learned about recently in the book, “Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg: The Letters” – a great, illuminating new book filled with the humility of the authors’ search for meaning and enlightenment – and Kerouac’s long suffering plea for the cause of tenderness.

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Summer – still, quiet, dark warm gentle soft morning air humming, 3am out for a drive, to get some air, the magical stillness of the hour – windows open – listening to the sensual music of Quicksilver Messenger Service

in the bliss of the music,  going along the side of a steep hill, the road winding, curving around, a wooded glade, gentle down grade –

suddenly, there they were: four foxes, going one by one, single file. They looked like a family – a pack of foxes?  …beautiful, wraith-like creatures, trotting along beside me for a few brief moments…

it was as a communique’ from another world, a communing… A release, an unconsciously inhaled breath of life; transcendent essence of something that moves me – wilderness; perfect animal nature, like the otherworldly screech of bald eagles wheeling overhead, metallic scrapings of heaven; creation

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