Author: wiggins.da

∴ in the backcountry’s tangles
time’s course twisted
minutes stretch
into moments sans end
against elemental force
survival insists
challenge meets, resolve persists ∴ 

∴ Last night, I found myself wandering over undulating hills, embarking on what felt like a meditative journey. The scenery seemed to blend familiar sanctuaries with unfamiliar landscapes, prompting contemplation about the nature of the practice ahead. Would it involve walking, sitting, or forest bathing? I wondered if I was supposed to lead any of these. What was certain, was that this sangha was free of dogma. These musings all floated lightly away on puffs of sencha-scented smoke as I continued along. 

As I strolled past a gazebo and a stone path adorned with shiny, metallic-looking stones—perhaps hematite or magnetite—my vision struggled to focus. Eventually, I reached my destination, where I was greeted by none other than David Bowie and Monica Bellucci. The surrealism of the moment struck me: Bowie, resembling his character from the movie Labyrinth, and Bellucci, embodying her role from Brotherhood of the Wolf (does anyone else remember this movie?). Alongside them was a figure reminiscent of a blend between Larry Coryell and Richard Feynman, garbed in mountain ascetic robes, strumming an air guitar to a faint tune.

It dawned on me that my mala beads were nowhere to be found. Rather than engaging in philosophical discourse about life, music, or cinema, I found myself consumed by the urgent quest to retrieve them. But why? It was then that I acknowledged the true absurdity of my predicament—I was in a dream! With a casual wave, I spring-jogged past Bellucci, Bowie, and Coryell-Feynman, intent on finding my beads, hoping it would be a brief departure, only to awaken. ∴¹

1. In this vivid dream, there was a multitude of nonsensical and unnecessary elements to sift through. It’s not common for me to encounter celebrity appearances, but having 3 to 4 of them was remarkable. The scent of sencha was particularly vivid, which is unusual for me as I rarely experience smells in my dreams. ↩︎

∴ forgotten chasm, torch & blade in hand |
where cairns dissolve, paths slip away |
stone glyphs won’t murmur, maps play hide-and-seek |
nature leads, step by step, into unknown |
·
bounding cliffs, nimble as goat-kangaroos |
past cairns, past clear paths, animal trails we traverse |
canyon challenges, primal & treacherous |
stone walls witness, rugged contours guide |
·
at the summit, glimpses of a distant tale |
ruins unveil remnants of a culture-defying time |
communal voices linger, echoes of rites of passage |
·
time to vanish, torchlight cuts through night |
a leap off the edge, rappelling into the abyss |
into darkness, where another adventure awaits ∴