04-10-2008, 12:01 AM
I awoke to the sound of dry grass crackling. After a brief struggle to open my eyes, I saw that the crackling, swish-swish, swish-swish sound was being
made by me! Hmmm...
"But why is the dried golden grass only inches away from my face?" I asked myself. Lifting my head to look more upward, towards the horizon, I
noticed an unfamiliar balance between the size of the sky and the size of the ground, divided by the horizon itself. The ground portion was much larger than
to which I am accustomed; the sky seemed unimportant.
I took a few more steps, and the crackling sound of the grass no longer was of any concern to me. Instead, I'm concerned because each step I took was
being mimicked by a step behind me but not from without -- it was... another leg?!? Without any volition on my part, I started running, trotting. Then
galloping. I could see with more clarity than my human eyes had ever seen before.
I was in coyote form again. As soon as I realized this, I began to doubt myself. Thoughts came in multiple form, like three of four people talking all at the
same time. The loudest voice said, "How do I do this?" When I gave my attention to that thought, almost simultaneously my physical awareness
shifted. Now I was running with only two legs, and my point of eyesight was above the animal's shoulder. It became an awkward gallop; my two now
more-human legs trying to run without keeping rhthym with the hind legs, which were much stronger.
I began to wobble, and stretched out my arms -- my what? I thought -- laterally in an effort to keep my balance. I "rode" for a few seconds like a
jib on the front of a small sailboat as the coyote continued at a full gallop across a patch of flat land in the hills where my home was located. As the
animal literally dove down the slope where the flat land ended, I contined traveling horizontally, above the ground, separated from my little coyote friend.
I looked around behind me and could catch only a quick glance of the coyote before I felt the sensation of being pulled backwards. Without any normal,
physical transition from one scene to another, I found myself to be in the kitchen of our home, already in step on my way to the bedroom. When I saw my
sleeping body on the bed, I floated back into it with a feeling of such comfort. Secomds later, I awoke again, this time laying next to my husband who was
still sound asleep.
With full memory of what had just occurred, I quietly got out of the bed, walked to the window, and scanned the hillside looking for the coyote that often is
still in the area as the sun lightens the sky before cresting the hilltop. In a few quiet moments, he appeared, trotting along the dirt fire-road which
circles the hill in order for the fire trucks to gain access to the area. Fascinated, happy, and in love with that coyote, I thought: "****. I have to
go to work now."
HAHA! And so I do right now, too. Yet, thanks for the memories, coyotes and you here, reading this.
Peace.
-Sugrue
made by me! Hmmm...
"But why is the dried golden grass only inches away from my face?" I asked myself. Lifting my head to look more upward, towards the horizon, I
noticed an unfamiliar balance between the size of the sky and the size of the ground, divided by the horizon itself. The ground portion was much larger than
to which I am accustomed; the sky seemed unimportant.
I took a few more steps, and the crackling sound of the grass no longer was of any concern to me. Instead, I'm concerned because each step I took was
being mimicked by a step behind me but not from without -- it was... another leg?!? Without any volition on my part, I started running, trotting. Then
galloping. I could see with more clarity than my human eyes had ever seen before.
I was in coyote form again. As soon as I realized this, I began to doubt myself. Thoughts came in multiple form, like three of four people talking all at the
same time. The loudest voice said, "How do I do this?" When I gave my attention to that thought, almost simultaneously my physical awareness
shifted. Now I was running with only two legs, and my point of eyesight was above the animal's shoulder. It became an awkward gallop; my two now
more-human legs trying to run without keeping rhthym with the hind legs, which were much stronger.
I began to wobble, and stretched out my arms -- my what? I thought -- laterally in an effort to keep my balance. I "rode" for a few seconds like a
jib on the front of a small sailboat as the coyote continued at a full gallop across a patch of flat land in the hills where my home was located. As the
animal literally dove down the slope where the flat land ended, I contined traveling horizontally, above the ground, separated from my little coyote friend.
I looked around behind me and could catch only a quick glance of the coyote before I felt the sensation of being pulled backwards. Without any normal,
physical transition from one scene to another, I found myself to be in the kitchen of our home, already in step on my way to the bedroom. When I saw my
sleeping body on the bed, I floated back into it with a feeling of such comfort. Secomds later, I awoke again, this time laying next to my husband who was
still sound asleep.
With full memory of what had just occurred, I quietly got out of the bed, walked to the window, and scanned the hillside looking for the coyote that often is
still in the area as the sun lightens the sky before cresting the hilltop. In a few quiet moments, he appeared, trotting along the dirt fire-road which
circles the hill in order for the fire trucks to gain access to the area. Fascinated, happy, and in love with that coyote, I thought: "****. I have to
go to work now."
HAHA! And so I do right now, too. Yet, thanks for the memories, coyotes and you here, reading this.
Peace.
-Sugrue