Spirit Abhors a Vacuum

Great Mullen on Bear Trail

A former friend told me nobody liked me but her. She alone could put up with my aloof personality and separateness. I had a husband who said something similar decades ago. He died recently, alone, in a jail cell. But my mother raised me to believe the naysayers in my life. I seem to seek them out. If this is friendship and love then I prefer to be alone.

I have learned to make friends with myself. And enjoy my own company. Not having someone to meet for lunch does not prevent me from having lunch out. I do not need to go to church, as mother often advised, to meet the right man. As if life is complete only if I did.

I am an introvert. Not a solitary human.

I have found other introverts on my path. And we enjoy walking together from time to time. On yesterday's walk with two friends and three dogs I found myself hanging back to observe. I do that a lot. I was not observing my friends so much as our dogs; our truly best friends. They took the trail sometimes ahead and alone only to turn back and regroup. Hang with another for a part of the trail and then break off to explore the elk bed from the night before. A wonderful almost choreographed dance.

I was also studying the Great Mullen and the thistle. Summer rains have produced an abundance of both. Here and there would be one of these plants all alone by itself and then there would be a great horde of them. I found myself thinking of star clusters and queuing theory. Mother always said I read too much.

Thistle and friend

I think sometimes I see too much. Maybe over think it. Dad said that. It is what makes me an artist, a photographer, and a poet.

The solitary thistle or Mullen plant had small volunteers not too distant as if in a time too slow for us to perceive they were being crept up upon. And Valentine, the butterscotch doodle, after a long loopy run around the humans and other dogs ponced upon Magique, my silver doodle, as if to say, "Hey, remember me? We're pals!" Magique rolled her eyes as if to say, "Pups!"

My friends on the trail up ahead broke off their running conversation on trying to herd cats (organize artists), and stopped to let me catch up. I consider it my role to give them a chance to take a break.

Nature abhors a vacuum. It just doesn't rush to fill it. Well, at least in our sense of time. Or in our preconceived notions of how that looks. A friend responded to my post of the Great Mullen by commenting, in her neck of the woods, they are considered invasive and they are trying to eradicate them. If you take the time to watch you will find they sort of do that themselves. In time. Their time.

It is the Zen way to not fill the silence with your answer but to live in the question.

It was a beautiful day on Bear Trail yesterday. The dogs wore themselves out. Us humans had a rolling conversation about art issues. I got some photos taken. But best thing about yesterday's walk? Everyone turned their phones off or forgot they brought them. Just in case of an emergency. And in those times we paused in the shade you could drink in the quiet. It fills your spirit.

Bear Trail