Tuesday, September 29, 2015

September 29, 2015 - An Old Boulder

We are told that when the glaciers crashed through Maine, they raked and dragged and smashed the landscape, flattening some hills and mountains and creating others.  Many areas in the southwest were not subjected to this extreme demolition, and so they have kept their canyons and peaks.  People from the southwest are often shocked when they see the severe effects of the ice on the land in Maine, even though many thousands of years have passed.

The rabbit hole.

Surrounded by oaks is a large flattened boulder from the last glacial period.  That’s what I’m told.  There appears to be an entrance at the bottom right to a subterranean world.  That’s what I surmise.  That’s what my eyes see.  I do not see a glacial formation.  I see an entrance.  How far down does the rabbit hole go?  Judging by the moss growing on the boulder, it has been there for quite some time.

The thing about entrances is that they’re also exits.  If something can go down or in, then something can also come up or out.  This is a less-traveled part of the woods, and the thick cluster of oaks adds to the mystique.  This is a place where many things go in and come out.  If I were to fall asleep against an old oak, would I wake up in 100 years like Rip Van Winkle?  Looking at this boulder, it seems very possible to me.

It’s funny how fairy tales are “cute” when read in a civilized setting, but when out in the woods, they don’t seem nearly as cute anymore.  They seem downright possible.  So if a tiny man should ask for my help in carrying anything, I should refuse him.  If a dainty wisp of a lady were to offer me something to drink, I would be wise to say no.  And if a finely-dressed man should offer me a ride on his horse, I should run in the other direction.

Because if I helped the man with his burden, if I drank the lady’s wine, if I took the ride on the horse, I might find that this is not a glacial formation after all.  I might find myself inside that rabbit hole.  I’d go straight through the obvious entrance and plunge downward, spending at least 20 years inside and only occasionally looking for the exit.  Eventually I’d come out the same way I went in, considerably grayer and longer in tooth, but what a tale I’d have to tell!

It’s hard to explain.  There are some things that you just know.  I get a “feeling” whenever I’m around this boulder.  It’s that feeling of being watched, that feeling of there being much more to this rock than the eye can see.  There’s a feeling of another realm.  Was it formed by the last ice age?  Perhaps, but more likely, it was revealed and not formed.  An entrance was not carved by the ice; an exit was.

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