December 7, 2003 ~ Simple and Not

Sunday.

Six miles along a deserted road up the mountains, spent talking. The sun took the edge off the chill and turned his hair golden. White clouds from our mouths with our words, drawing designs in snow, trying to name birds. He took my hand in his, and life was simple.

Afterwards, we went to a movie theater, and life was no longer simple. Twenty minutes of advertisements for television shows left me with a splitting headache. When did they start doing this? Why? What happened to the unobtrusive slides and soft music? Hiking six miles up the mountains didn't exhaust me, but twenty minutes of flashy choppy advertisements did.

Apparently I'm supposed to want, after that, to listen to Brittany Spears (so that is what she looks and sounds like, eh?), drink Coke, and watch a mini-series and a reality TV show.

Partway through, Morgan leaned over and said, "I think I'm experiencing culture shock, you?"

Yeah. By the end, head bowed, eyes closed, hands at my temples.

I stopped watching television mainly because of the commercials. Looks like I'm going to have to start arriving late to movies, from now on. I wonder how long before I just can't avoid it anymore, no matter what I do?

If that day ever comes, I'll be tempted to take off down a trail and never return.

Footnotes:

weather: We never did get additional snow Friday night, only flurries. Cold.
observation: A cloud that looked like a woman walking into a river in the sky.
mail bag: More holiday cards.
cooking: Morgan made a delicious vegetable barley soup tonight.
watching: The movie was The Last Samurai, and it was quite good.
one year ago: No entry. two years ago: "A friend once lovingly told me that my way of life and my philosophies wouldn't last two seconds in 'the real world,' away from the Warren Wilson 'commune.' " Well, what do you know? It's been two years, and they have only grown stronger. three and four years ago: No entries.

online journals:

"The wolf is still with me though, deep in my mind. I still often dream of it and it's northerly domain. It's less immediate--it demands less explanation as it always used to, but my life is no more rich or pleasant for its absence. Losing the wolf, slowly as I am, is to lose that final piece of what magic I have known in order to replace it with the commonplace. It is my slow domestication, and only Melissa's growing wildness gives me hope. Hope that, in another ten years, I won't be completely without the wild, primitive, wet soul of my childhood." ~ Morgan in this entry of Felicity Hanging in the Balance.

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