The Sun Was Out

The sun was out. This may sound like a mundane statement—I assure you—it is not. The sun was out! By the glory of God, the Sun had broken through the clouds and reached my dull, damp skin.

You see, I live in what they (ecologists?) call a coastal temperate rainforest. What you need to know about this is that it rains (shocker) and even when it’s not raining, it’s damp.

When the clouds take form after their short summer break, they can be quite stubborn and persistent. Perhaps it had only been days since the direct light of the Sun had graced us mere peasants—but it certainly felt like weeks.

Anyway, the point is: The Sun Was Out. Praise be.

So my partner and I embarked on an aimless jaunt—how could it matter where we went? The Sun Was Out.

Of course, we encountered three, maybe four, bear. It’s just that time of year when the acorns are.. fresh? And the salmon are tired and rotting at the rivers edge.

So, yes, bears are abound.

And it never gets old. Seeing bears. Not for me anyway. It feels like I’ve snuck behind the curtain of this drama and seen something I shouldn’t have.

I mean, they’re potentially dangerous, yes. Yet, perhaps the most cuddly, huggable thing imaginable. And they just seem to be enjoying themselves. Every creature seems to have its own vibe and bears seem to embody enjoyment to me. Just living their life. Content.

“Oh is that some hoomans walking by again? No bother I’ll just be 15 feet up this tree ripping branches off for acorns.“

Is that not how I wish to live my life? Not fifteen feet up a tree—but just… unbothered?

And they’re just right there. Right amongst where we live. But of course, we’re probably encroaching on them. With all of the logging and construction and pipelines and activity us humans have going on, I guess it just surprises me that there’s enough natural abundance for all these bears.

I suppose I saw four bears today. But I saw a lot more humans. So, I dunno, maybe it’s not abundant.

Either way, it still feels like I’m seeing something I’m not supposed to. And they still appear unbothered to me. And it just feels like a gift. Seeing animals brings me uncanny amounts of joy. I can’t reason with it. It just is as it is.

So I named this newsletter after the phrase we all get used to bleating out, living amongst Ursus Americanus, “Hey Bear!”

And I’m forever grateful every time they look at me with the least amount of interest possible—totally unbothered. That is, if they even pay me any attention at all.

Eventually the bears will hibernate. And I hope this newsletter goes on because it’s not really about the bears, but the feeling I get that only nature seems to afford me. Wonder, awe, and joy. ✨

—AU