Wow! I spent a year living in a pickup truck, long before van life was a thing. Returning to a "normal life" after hundreds of miles on foot in remote Rockies trails all over the US and Canada left me yearning for the reality clear mountain spaces. 40 plus years later I am retired to 40 acres in the Blue Ridge.
I was not wrong to yearn for this.
Rittenberry shines a light into the dark heart of who we have become.
Yes... and this is why I live far far away, in the southwest mountains of Colorado. And I haven't been back to a city in a very long time. I felt the same yearning and fortunately I can work remotely. If I couldn't live in the wilderness, talk to the trees, listen to the wind, observe the birds, foxes, deer and other wild ones, I'd be a very sad, lost creature.
40 years ago, I spent three summers backpacking in Colorado. I go back now via Google earth, and visit those places only to find whole stands of trees standing dead as climate change starts to devour the living world. Your impulse is right and true… worship what is worthy of reverence while you can, and let your poems stand as an indictment of the indifferent. Thank you.
Hey Erik, welcome to post-hike depression. It’s typical of long distance and thru-hikers. Just got off 160 miles doing the Collegiate Loop so I feel you. You know the cure? MORE HIKES !!!
I have so much appreciation for the “awareness” in this poem.
Do poets see the world from a perch above the cacophony? Are they able to see what many others cannot?
And what of acceptance? Before change can take place… must we accept the reality we’re in?
Is culture a just another wild part of nature? And how does it change?
Since this is a space for poets… Can I offer a metaphor?
Last night my neck of the woods enjoyed much needed thunderstorms. My 70 pound lab retriever is not a fan. She becomes trembling mass of fear. I took her outside to go potty and she refused to come back into the house. To get her in, I used a mix of strategies. I carried her. I spoke softly to her. I praised our progress. Once inside, I laid on the living room floor while and she paced. After some time, she started walking close enough to me that I could offer comforting strokes as she passed. She is a wild thing… more wolf than dog I sometimes think.
My point? I came at her with love, which I have learned is most effective in making space for her to trust me.
Prior to Eric’s poem I read this piece about photographing birds . I feel it helped me to understand the poem with more depth.
The light, the air, the peace do exist within ourselves. Accessing them is most challenging at times in the himan social and structural environment. Nature provides space to access this native love. It can also be accessed in our daily spaces, with much effort.
I just read the article about birds and thank you immensely for posting it. It’s all about awareness and just being. And that even our local patches of nature provide wonders to experience within easy reach. I live on the New England coast and have the past several months been hanging out with the gulls - they are remarkable, even sensitive beings.
My pleasure! I appreciate Bill’s weekly bird letters much.
Thank you for sharing your experience with the gulls. Yesterday I kayaked on a nearby river and found myself giving undivided attention to the herons, cranes, ducks, dragonflies, fish, and turtles.perhaps my attention was sharper because of this conversation? 😊
Wonderful writing grew up in the Denver Boulder metro - not what it used to be - even the trails. Moved to MN up north of The Cities to get even further away from pop densities . I’ve reached a point where I realize I’m not like people who thrive in the urban setting.
Thank you for sharing this Erik! I don't get out into the "wild" as often as I used to, so I do my best to find the wild elements wherever I find myself. Even if it is just to listen to the wind in the suburban trees or watching the birds trace patterns in the sky. There's nothing like a good starling murmuration to feel the organic harmony of the natural world without the limitations imposed by human thought. ☺️
This is as close as it gets to describing our now moment. The sentiments of someone who is wide awake in this nightmare, and in this beautiful dream, depending on where you tread.
As I read these comments from my home office, a shadow and sound catch my attention. Ten feet from me, through window, wall, roof, and gutter, uneasily sits a bird of prey. I can not see it. But it sounds larger than a dove and is far more agitated.
It is gone now.
Looking out of the window, a very robust ash tree blocks my view of Longs Peak for the season. Trees around it have a hint of autumn color, so my mountain view should return in six weeks or so. If the tree has not grown too much this year.
I see the careful consciousness in the present moment, and the longing for the recent past to become the future.. I can smell where you've been, where you are and where you are going. I Appreciate you.
Wow! I spent a year living in a pickup truck, long before van life was a thing. Returning to a "normal life" after hundreds of miles on foot in remote Rockies trails all over the US and Canada left me yearning for the reality clear mountain spaces. 40 plus years later I am retired to 40 acres in the Blue Ridge.
I was not wrong to yearn for this.
Rittenberry shines a light into the dark heart of who we have become.
Yes... and this is why I live far far away, in the southwest mountains of Colorado. And I haven't been back to a city in a very long time. I felt the same yearning and fortunately I can work remotely. If I couldn't live in the wilderness, talk to the trees, listen to the wind, observe the birds, foxes, deer and other wild ones, I'd be a very sad, lost creature.
40 years ago, I spent three summers backpacking in Colorado. I go back now via Google earth, and visit those places only to find whole stands of trees standing dead as climate change starts to devour the living world. Your impulse is right and true… worship what is worthy of reverence while you can, and let your poems stand as an indictment of the indifferent. Thank you.
Such a powerful poem, I was pulled into his vortex, felt the wretched pain of our crumbling civilization. 🥰
Hey Erik, welcome to post-hike depression. It’s typical of long distance and thru-hikers. Just got off 160 miles doing the Collegiate Loop so I feel you. You know the cure? MORE HIKES !!!
Post-hike depression. Sometimes I cannot even stand to be within 4 walls. I feel too confined if I can’t see the sky.
I feel like this all the time. I think this may be the best thing (so far) that I’ve read by you. Thank you for sharing it. 🌸
I have so much appreciation for the “awareness” in this poem.
Do poets see the world from a perch above the cacophony? Are they able to see what many others cannot?
And what of acceptance? Before change can take place… must we accept the reality we’re in?
Is culture a just another wild part of nature? And how does it change?
Since this is a space for poets… Can I offer a metaphor?
Last night my neck of the woods enjoyed much needed thunderstorms. My 70 pound lab retriever is not a fan. She becomes trembling mass of fear. I took her outside to go potty and she refused to come back into the house. To get her in, I used a mix of strategies. I carried her. I spoke softly to her. I praised our progress. Once inside, I laid on the living room floor while and she paced. After some time, she started walking close enough to me that I could offer comforting strokes as she passed. She is a wild thing… more wolf than dog I sometimes think.
My point? I came at her with love, which I have learned is most effective in making space for her to trust me.
Prior to Eric’s poem I read this piece about photographing birds . I feel it helped me to understand the poem with more depth.
https://open.substack.com/pub/billdavison/p/how-to-get-close-to-birds?r=19lbt&utm_medium=ios
We must first bring the light to ourselves? And then we can share it into the darkness?
The light, the air, the peace do exist within ourselves. Accessing them is most challenging at times in the himan social and structural environment. Nature provides space to access this native love. It can also be accessed in our daily spaces, with much effort.
I just read the article about birds and thank you immensely for posting it. It’s all about awareness and just being. And that even our local patches of nature provide wonders to experience within easy reach. I live on the New England coast and have the past several months been hanging out with the gulls - they are remarkable, even sensitive beings.
My pleasure! I appreciate Bill’s weekly bird letters much.
Thank you for sharing your experience with the gulls. Yesterday I kayaked on a nearby river and found myself giving undivided attention to the herons, cranes, ducks, dragonflies, fish, and turtles.perhaps my attention was sharper because of this conversation? 😊
Wonderful writing grew up in the Denver Boulder metro - not what it used to be - even the trails. Moved to MN up north of The Cities to get even further away from pop densities . I’ve reached a point where I realize I’m not like people who thrive in the urban setting.
Thank you for sharing this Erik! I don't get out into the "wild" as often as I used to, so I do my best to find the wild elements wherever I find myself. Even if it is just to listen to the wind in the suburban trees or watching the birds trace patterns in the sky. There's nothing like a good starling murmuration to feel the organic harmony of the natural world without the limitations imposed by human thought. ☺️
Truth! Love the visuals in this poem and the sad truth of it. I can feel/see/smell it all… thank you for the mountain air.
This is as close as it gets to describing our now moment. The sentiments of someone who is wide awake in this nightmare, and in this beautiful dream, depending on where you tread.
Thank you for reminding us to get into nature and that we too are wild.
close to my own sentiments
As I read these comments from my home office, a shadow and sound catch my attention. Ten feet from me, through window, wall, roof, and gutter, uneasily sits a bird of prey. I can not see it. But it sounds larger than a dove and is far more agitated.
It is gone now.
Looking out of the window, a very robust ash tree blocks my view of Longs Peak for the season. Trees around it have a hint of autumn color, so my mountain view should return in six weeks or so. If the tree has not grown too much this year.
My God, my God, thank you! I am very blessed.
I see the careful consciousness in the present moment, and the longing for the recent past to become the future.. I can smell where you've been, where you are and where you are going. I Appreciate you.
Thanks. Sadly and poetically said. Love the Emerson quote.
An absolutely eloquent bit of writing… I of course sent it off to some people that’ll never be able to fathom it..