Dear the pure in heart,

 Awhile back, when I was complaining that Yellowstone was hiding all of its bears, I heard from a long ago friend, who said that bears would show themselves to the pure in heart. I believe his implication was that they would show themselves only to the pure in heart. And since I hadn't seen a bear, truthfully, since I was a child, I thought the accusation was clear.

Today, we took a drive into the east part of Yellowstone. On our way, we stopped at the visitor's center at Canyon. People had posted their confirmed wildlife sightings there, on a big piece of paper clipped to an easel. Wolves, spotted in Gibbon Meadow and Hayden Valley. Bears at Gibbon Meadow and the Sylvan Pass. We looked at our map.

We took our sandwiches down to the edge of the river and ate them while we watched the water flow by.  Clouds assembled. We got back in and drove in the direction of the Sylvan Pass. 

The lake gleamed. Rows of ducks and geese bobbed along the edge and ducked their heads under. We ascended. In the truest sign of the animal-seeking blessed, we saw many cars and trucks pulled hastily to the side of the road, both sides. A park ranger was with them, binoculars and camera at the ready. We slowed.

"It's something," I said.

After a pause, with some craning out the window, the historian said, "It's a bison."

And then, "Nope, it's a bear."

A grizzly, as it turned out.

It took its time and walked into and up the road, then down the bank to the other side, perhaps to its afternoon sleeping place.

The pure in heart, I have, at least for today, joined you.

ecstatically,

htms

p.s.

This gang of bison was a bonus, I feel

Posted with Blogsy

The last post about bears. Probably.

Today, after our epic Yellowstone bear-seeing quest, we stayed close to home--took a little bike ride, admired the river which had, at the time we rode by it, practically no fishermen, read a lot, wrote, made cookie dough (which is currently curing in the refrigerator, since that's apparently what cookie dough needs nowadays), took small naps. You know, like you do.

An old friend from long ago, a writer and a gentleman, tells me on Facebook, where I have been airing my plaintive lament about the bears and how Yellowstone is apparently not letting anyone see them, that he sees bears all the time in the park, and also that bears show themselves only to the pure in heart. And, seriously, there's a part of me that kind of, sort of, believes him.

I probably need to engage in more serious, focused bear-seeking behavior, and not just identify a stretch of road where bears have appeared to other people. Perhaps I need to slow down more, stay still more. Perhaps I need to learn, really, how to look for bears.

When I was a kid, bears just showed up at--literally--your picnic. There's a part of me that thinks I ought to be able to see a bear just by showing up myself. A few years ago, I was in fine mega-fauna spotting form (no bears, but moose). Of late, I appear to have lost my animal-finding ways.

(I may or may not be talking about my inner life here.)

Anyway. I've been thinking about totems, a little bit--the animals that seem to express what we long for in our inner lives. What animal is my totem? Sometimes I think it is a dog, but actually a dog--a certain dog--may be my muse. Can a dog be both a totem and a muse? Maybe. I find that when I see other animals, I see Bruiser in them. For instance, take a look at this seal we saw in Scotland:

There were lots of these seals lounging about on a sunny day at Newburgh beach. Lots and lots of them. Some of them were in the water, coming very close to the edge where my granddaughters, their trouser legs rolled up, were running up to and barely into the water, then running back. This one's eyes remind me of Bruiser's--wary, soulful, apart.

I do not think a bear is my totem animal nor my muse. But bears are an emblem of where I come from, so I would like to see one again--be in the right place, however one defines place--be clear-eyed, patient, still enough--I want my heart to be pure enough for a bear to reveal itself to me.