Back to the bush.
Separated by time and space what continues to stick with me are the images I carry in my mind.
Africa has left its marks deep under my skin where only I know to look. But I suppose this is true for all the significant events of my life: working for Nols, the CDT, training my horses, and Nikki They all have left tail-tell sign as indelible as the blood trail of the first elk I shot. I suppose I am not the only one who can read these signs. They must show up on how in how I walk, in the joy in my face as I watch a kudu cow come to drink, her over sized ears swiveling to catch the sounds of my breath. The twinge of sweet pain as we eat our wild game, and the way my horse comes to me when he could walk away. Sun sets and snow fields make me want to cry. Not because they are sad. But because the beauty is too much for one short life to hold. If I am not carful my skin can feel too raw. Emotions and landscapes rip across it leaving road-rash of the mind. But this too can be sweet.
Sharing always seems to help though. So I will leave my images for you to look at. And hopefully if you open your mind up and try to feel with all the fibers you have, you might get the feeling of the soft Africa sand under your toes.. The heat and tang of the Kalahari wind. The grounded human smell of the Xuma and Guta as they tell the story of the past night.
Here is some of the stories I wake to when I come out of dreams.
Walk with me.
I am traveling.
Or is life water?
Kaden, learning from his elders.
Guta explaining a bit of the world.
A link is formed.