The Scent of a Bear

copyright © August 26, 2015
By P. R. Lowe

Here in the deep of summer: Lavender “Pan” moths and fluorescent fire flies; moments of lucidity amidst the chaos — throwing out the justice scales, and for one shining moment comprehending true forgiveness and real love.

People talk of fairness and what they deserve; does the tree deserve to be strangled by the vine? Does the river deserve water?

In the woods, the scent of a bear caresses the vine and the tree ….and me. Like sorting out the ingredients of an amazing culinary experience, my nostrils flare and make a mental list, for I desire to remember this, lest I begin to become jaded and careless with my choices.

What does a bear smell like? Cold wet stone, antediluvian rock in dark forgotten crevices, lined with moss and fern….old bacon grease or lard that’s been baking in the sun…fecund, mulching leaves of many autumns come and gone, the underside of a mushroom… a baby’s belly… a puppy’s warm breath… ….

And other essential ingredients?
What does a bear look like? Pretty much like the stuffed bears people give to their children to cuddle.

What does a bear know? Something ancient and sacred; lost to a good portion of humanity.

How does a bear feel? Like how people desire those “stuffed” ones to feel to their children. Safe.. Of love, inexpressible in mere words…something akin to a divine presence… What some attribute to their Gods. Awe inspiring and …a little sad.

A good many people think only of people, and forget the other sentient beings that share their biology and environment… Either one, no more equal to, or lesser than the vine or the tree.

“ For as long as men massacre animals they will kill each other. Indeed, he who sows the seed of murder and pain cannot reap joy and love.”

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1 Response to The Scent of a Bear

  1. mzedly says:

    Thank you. Sadly true.


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