Tarantula Hunting

Yesterday, I took a walk on the mountain mainly as an excuse for seclusion after an oddly stressful weekend. I headed out the front door and up the steep hill outside the condo, to the walking path on the ridge. I followed it along and up the mountain just far enough to feel invisible to the world in the warm night, which is really nice sometimes.

I occasionally go on walks to clear my brain, to still it. Seclusion helps me strip away context and just feel like an invisible observer of the quiet world below. There's something oddly cathartic about it. Accompanied by only grasshoppers and mosquitoes. And whatever just rustled in the brush to my right. The inner loner in me gets his moment. And personal woes seem less relevant, more relative.

I've recently taken to calling these occasional forays onto the mountainside "tarantula hunting", which is fitting since I'm always on the lookout since learning we have tarantulas and scorpions here. I found a spot on the mountainside to sit, to observe, to hear only the sounds of the wind tumbling across the boulder-laden mountainside mixed with the rustling of critters hopping from stalk to stalk and the faint mechanical sounds of not-too-distant human civilization. Hey, I'm allowed to be pseudo-poetic when I'm sitting alone on a mountainside.



I actually was depressed this weekend, unable to shake some things that were troubling me. Trapped between being unable to find a solution and being unable to stop caring about finding it. I hate when I can't solve something, especially regarding relationships.

Due to several stressors, my thoughts had whipped my emotions into a torrent, but as I began to feel most depressed, my thoughts also brought me back. When I found myself wishing to be carried away like fine sand on the breeze and thinking it wouldn't make much difference to the world in general, part of me wised up to the worthlessness and self-pity of such thoughts and told me I was letting emotion get the best of me rather than directing and channeling it. Damn my brain anyway for not letting me be totally melodramatic. I found some clarity and perspective that began to help me out of my depressive thought patterns. I didn't give up on making important decisions. I just let go of much of the stress. I guess my annoyingly analytical brain can also be a sort of saving grace.

So I sat, feeling peaceful, content. I enjoyed the solitude. I heard critters everywhere. I watched stars of various colors twinkling. I wondered what was around the corner and looked forward to exploring it next time. I found what were probably great little make-out spots and wondered who might have actually used them. I watched a truck pass along a lower ridge. They couldn't have seen me. I was ninja! As I sat there, I found myself wishing I had someone beside me on that mountain to hold and to simply enjoy the stillness with. It would've been a sweet moment. Aw, precious. But for the moment, I decided to just let that go, too, and enjoy what I did have: beautiful solitude.



I took out my camera and tinkered a bit, as with the photos posted above. I also wrote my name with the moon. That's gonna need some more practice.



And I made Provo explode. And it made me smile.



Incidentally, I found no tarantulas. I'll just have to keep trying...