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epitome of incomprehensibility
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Today, my last day in Pickering (at least for now), I saw a coyote with what looked like a stick in its mouth.
David thought the animal was a dog at first, but then he said, "Oh, it's a coyote," and I asked, "Or a wolf?" because it looked quite large and wolflike: grey with pointy ears. "Is it dangerous?" I went on, not really afraid but wanting to be cautious.
The coyote disappeared into the ravine. David thought it had a rabbit or another small animal in its mouth. "It has food, it won't bother us."
"I don't think it would, we're a lot bigger. At least, together."
That wasn't meant to be metaphorical. But why can't we be together more? Why does he have to go back to England in September? We could live together and have a dog: we both like dachshunds, we both habitually sleep seven hours a night. We can stop the coyotes of the world from eating our dog and our sleep, right? But it's interesting, seeing a coyote.
And while we were walking hand-in-hand through the forest path, stepping over roots, the theme of reframing obstacles as stepping-stones turned up.
Pah. The shaman of Mount_Shasta - the mystical lady in the train seat in front of me - is a bad influence. Neither of us said, "Oh darling, let us tune into the spiritual energy of the forest and reframe obstacles as stepping-stones."
But it was a nice walk and we saw a coyote!
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