He woke up that next morning feeling like something had changed. Despite
lying on the hard ground, he had slept better than he had in along time.
Perhaps the exercise and break from alcohol had done him some good.
Although he had no definite time set to return, he instinctively felt
like it was time to make the difficult trip back up the canyon. It wasn’t going
to be easy, but he wanted to test himself, both physically as well as
emotionally. He felt like he was at a fork in the road between moving towards
some kind of life force, or simply throwing in the towel, and he hoped the
rigorous trip up the canyon might inspire him to make a choice.
As he packed up his gear, he thought about something Heraclitus had
said, that “no man can step into the same river twice, because he is not the
same man, and it’s not the same river.” He felt like it applied to him right
now. The first time he had hiked to the bottom of the canyon he had a spiritual
experience, and a part of him was hoping it would happen again. Still, he did
feel he had learned something on this trip, and that perhaps the lesson would
clarify itself in time.
As he began his walk up the small valley, he noticed a body lying limply
in the weeds. He went to investigate, and saw that it was the coyote. He could
see its ribs poking though the fur, and wondered if the animal had actually
starved to death. He felt numb looking at the lifeless body of the animal, and
found his mind wandering back to that awful day when he had to identify the
bodies of his wife and daughter. It was the first lifeless body he had seen
since that day, and he felt the emotion rising up in his chest.
So much loss.
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