218 Gold Creek, Part One
V.7 : August 18th to September 3rd
Location: The Brooks Range, Alaska
Cripple Creek Gal : Traditional
Travelling On The Way : Folksinger
I left Wiseman and headed North to Gold Creek and the trail off the haul road. I'm almost in the center of the Brooks Range now. I've explored this country for many years, prospecting and digging crystals and gold, and just walking about. I can't relax sitting around, especially when I'm keyed up and burnt out from the road and the music. I need to blow off energy and let the calm of nature slowly seep into my heart and soul and mind. So though it's great to see my friends again when I reach their camp, where there is a warm cabin waiting for me; they understand when I head out up the creek and up the montain, not coming back till after dark.
They head for Fairbanks to shop while I watch the place for them, something I've done before. They can use the break and I can use the solitude. The day after they leave it snows 6 inches, August 22nd, summer in the Brooks Range.
I come home to the wildlands. The end of the road is the same in the mountains or the desert. I live in the awareness of the energies beneath manifestation, the elementals and the archetypes. Some certain energy is like a certain colored thread appearing again and again in a tapestry. The sea is the sea, no matter where I come to it. Each manifestation, each event in my life, is unique; yet the same energies manigfest again and again, the same scenes repeat with different people playing the roles in different places. I come to nature because the energy there is all in harmony, life and death, growth and decay; yet there is nothing wrong, nothing disturbs the pattern, the music. "The universe is singing harmony." Except for people, while they have the ability to sense the energy, they can chose to work with it, doing right, in harmony; or against it, doing wrong. It is very like music, something you feel, self evident. It is not that there is a definitive right note, but in a place and time, there is certainly right notes and wrong ones, and degrees of both. The Rightest note that channels the greatest energy, the worst wrong note that breaks down the entire piece and throws off all the other musicians. Evil, if it comes to that, is to cause the wrong note top be played intentionally, just for the destruction and disruption it will cause, the breakdown of the positive energy that was flowing in that place and time.
I come to the wildlands to excape the wrongness that fills so much of the world people have made. Just to relax for a while in a place where I feel like I belong. I feel safe and secure in the wildlands, something I seldom feel among people. I have spent much of my life in the wilds and I know the patterns, I fit in, I belong. I a as sensitve and aware as a wild animal, and here I can let my senses expand to their limit, unbound by the painful and irritating dissonance of "civilization". I am not an intruder from man's world invading the wild, I am a wild thing returning to my refuge and sanctuary. Nature may kill me, if I do the wrong thing; but there is no malice, no evil, nothing wrong.
I settle in to unwind a little and recover, like going to someplace quiet to tune an instrument.