Porch view of Bee Mountain honey source (above). Gladly's Porch.


It's Just Too Short!

After the last week of almost continuous Hashing, I decided to make a pilgrimage to the mountain and commune with my friend and spirit animal, Gladly. I did not choose my spirit animal, he picked me:
My family was frequently banished from small-town churches based on my dad's tendencies to challenge local pastors on matters of faith and grammar. Pop was also the worst singer in every church we attended, and demonstrated it with great zeal... Yet, that is how the hymn "Gladly The Cross Eyed Bear", in all its divine mysterious meaning, became one with my psyche.

Gladly had to overcome great visual obstacles in his youth, which he now recognizes as his path to the third, inner eye. After being driven from the bear clan through shame and ridicule (much like my father), he took on a life of solitude. He has learned many things from his hermitage, such as how far into the woods he can go before he is coming out, whether he shits there or not, and whether it sticks to his fur. While his teaching is subtle, his students are often permanently scarred by his affectionate back scratches.

Between meditation sessions with Gladly, I had meant to share my experiences through a blog entry or two, but found that I just didn't have enough data cable to reach Mr. Drucker's store. So Gladly and I rolled down there in his pickup, but Mr. Drucker wouldn't let us touch the phone crank. Gladly finally climbed the pole outside Mr. Douglas' house, and was so moved by the view, he decided to just send a transcendental message... So if any of you have had Sunday School hymns, particularly Gladly's, running through your heads lately, eat some honey, get all sticky, and give someone a hug. But mind the claws.