God's Paparazzi

My Garmin reports that I have logged near 870-miles since my last blog on March 10. I have been unable to write about my runs because my words are locked inside of me. This is OK. It is a new experience for me, but I must believe that it comes with the territory of transformation, love, and acceptance which belongs to the run within me.

The night has taken my run lately because I gave my day-soul to the God of work and anxiety. I usually run in circles at a local track, two of which are surrounded by nature preserves and hidden behind large public school buildings. The other night a young deer came to visit. She meandered near the fence and circled the grass as if to invite a chase. For several minutes she stood and watched me run, and I adored her silhouette--her body well-fed, and her head so small, with perky ears which begged me to play. She circled again and walked the tree line. I took out my mini laser beam light to find her and she froze. I was sorry for the fear I caused, but I could not help myself. She was alone, as was I, and I wanted to let her know where I was.

One night I ran into a large "something" which would not budge off of the path. I shone my light and hissed, and it failed to move, even an inch. I could not identify what the creature was and so I tossed a stone its direction. It moved away, but reluctantly, and it left me with a notion it would return. It had a long tail and what appeared to be a silver streak on its back. To me it was a large lump of a thing which blocked my way. I am sure she thought the same of me. Within minutes, the creature revealed her identity when my eyes watered and the air around me swallowed me until I moved upwind. It was the mother-load skunk who let me know it was her path, and not mine.

Near the track is a frog pond, presumably created to fend off mosquitoes, which are quite bad down in the flood plain below. As night falls, there is a symphony of frogs which is really an orgy of frogs, if one were honest. They are having lots of wild, loud, pleasurable sex down there, as I run by in the moonlight. I am thankful I cannot see them as I hear them.

Three huge turkey vultures circle me at the sunset and once they landed nearby. They were so large on the ground that I had irrational Hitchcockian fears, the likes of which were matched just last night when the largest bat I have ever witnessed flew above my head. It was in a tree to the front of me and it flew out over the track, over my head, and to a tree behind me. Its wingspan must have been at least 3-feet. It was close enough that I could see its bare body, which is why I knew it was not a bird. The bat operates by sonar and I must have invited its curiosity.

The sunsets are sometimes too beautiful to waste with a circle run, and so I must stop and film them with my digital camera and zoom lens and tripod. This set-up allows for me to film various parts of the sunset and other interesting features around me, such as the red-winged blackbirds which nest in the brush near the frog pond. I poked around down there one sunset only to have a very aggressive and mouthy red winged black bird warn me to go away, which I eventually did, but not before taking several shots in the dark at her noises, which I later edited to find her real side.

There are sand pipers which play and perch themselves on the goal posts. The Robbins pop along in the grass and do not seem afraid of my circles.

I wear bug spray and it seems I am invited to walk more than run by the creatures around. There are no others of my species to observe.

One evening I witnessed a disturbing scene of nature when I was the sole eye witness to a hawk which raided a nest of baby birds. The birds screamed for their lives as the hawk ravished the nest and I could hear the mother return with a fight, to no avail. I was sickened by the sounds and I wondered why I was there at that time, in that spot, to witness the brutal force of nature which cannot be quelled. Upon my return to the location there was a large baby bird lying dead in the path, violently bloodied. It troubled me so much that I cannot forget the sound and images witnessed. I wonder whether I was randomly present for a random event, or whether I was meant to be there for a lesson. I think the answers are yes and yes.

On June 17, 2008, as I rounded the southeast corner of the track, I looked up and back over my left shoulder, to see what appeared to be a comet in the sky. It was a clear night and the stars were bright. There was a good moon, if I recall, because I had my tripod down on the west side of the track, focused on the moon. I have seen many shooting stars in that location, but never an asteroid, so close to the earth. It was a big ball of fire, with a long tail. It took me 43-years to see this thing scorch the sky. I could not believe my eyes. A few seconds later, when it was gone, I questioned myself about whether I had in fact seen the asteroid. It was so remarkable that my memory doubted itself.

It did happen.

Mostly, I pray alone out in the night. During my prayers I am surrounded by what in my childhood we called "lightening bugs." The male insects of this species lighten up to attract a mate. The field and the trees around me flash around like bulbs on cameras. I imagine it is God's Paparazzi, showing itself to humanity-- capturing us on the eternal film of life.

The problem is that all of what surrounds me makes me move from a run to a crawl. I am compelled to heed the beauty and the savagery and the spontaneity of the surroundings---to learn from its contradiction and harmony.

My words are returning to me, one at at time, and with each new word comes a sense a new life and possibility. I believe I will run again, maybe not like the run of the past, but it will be a run that I can appreciate, after the long crawl out of the night of my soul.