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“Don’t Worry… He’s More Afraid of You…”

http://susiehansen.com/special-event-song-list/ A few days of emotional chaos, perfectly reflected by the weather: cold, rain, sleet, snow – yesterday I woke up to find half-an-inch on the ground.  The wind has been astonishing, shaking the house, raising great swells of sound up from the mountain.  Clarity emerged, and I wrote a letter, which I resolved to carry down to the mailbox at the bottom of the road, about a mile away.  I emerged around six p.m., walking down my path to the road, absorbed in my thoughts.  As I crossed the field I watched my feet, as the way was damp from runoff and there were puddles and muddy patches and so forth.

buy Lyrica in uk Little did I know that watching me, from the end of the stone wall, was the bear.  I walked right at him, utterly unaware of his presence, until I heard large motion right in front of me.  I looked up and saw him about fifteen feet away, leaning back onto his back legs and then bolting down the path.  I watched him run away, around the curve of the mountain into the woods: he was beautiful, galloping as wonderfully (and as quickly!) as a horse.  He looked larger than ever, probably close to four hundred pounds, more corpulent and stocky, though his movement was still spry and youthful.  His fur was black like a black hole, reflecting no light.

He must have been watching me the whole time – he was right in my path – until he was unnerved by my fearless approach (timere nequit quod adesse nescit), and when it came time for fight or flight, he presumed that I was some powerful beast who could dispense with caution around bears, and he chose flight.  Had he chosen otherwise, of course, my story could have come to a swift but dramatic finish.  I was utterly unarmed and hundreds of feet from either my cabin or my car.

He ran away this time, but if he lives many more years, he will be bigger, and less inclined to run away, no matter who comes down the path, or how cocky his approach.

The experience of passing through situations where you might well have died is unusual – though much can be ascribed to chance, you feel saved, preserved – the question being, “for what?”

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