The Bucket

“Take this bucket and make yourself useful!”

“What do you mean?” answered the middle aged CEO from Chicago.

“Go down to the river and get a bucket of water to have ready when we douse the fire tonight,” barked the tour leader. He had had about enough of this CEO. He was beginning to believe that CEO meant Chief Ego On-site. This guy looked 10 years older than he was and had what his teenage son called an “attitude” about everything. Why did it always bother him. He had seen it many times before when leading these wilderness river trips. These VIP’s being manly on their once a year roughing it adventure. Ah hell, maybe he was doing them some good, but he doubted it. As soon as they get back, they brag it up and forget the rest. This one was being a little too much. Get him to working on something. He’d found out years ago that idle hands tend to be bossy hands. He’ll just have to keep him busy from now on. There are still days to go before the end.

Why the hell did he ask me to take this stupid bucket to the river. This whole trip was really more boring than I thought it would be. But now I’m stuck here, down in this canyon on this river, miles from anywhere and days to go before the finish. I can finish it out. I didn’t get to owning my own multi-million dollar company by not being able to tough it out. Besides if that guide gets rude to me, I’ll buy this two-bit tour company when I get back and sell it off for the hell of it. I thought there would be some real adventure, some action on this trip. I should have brought my laptop computer with me and I could have gotten some work done during these long quiet slow times. Things move so much slower down here. Damn, I wish they had let me bring my watch. 

The sun had just hit the edge of the world and the time of magic light was washing over the canyon. The slow moving quiet water took on the spirit of the sky. It was that time when there was perfect balance. Neither day nor night. Only that brief time of dreams and beings beyond the past and future. Even though the high desert was a silent place during the day compared to some parts of the world, the dusk brought the silence of solitude when all beings paused to feel the moment between two worlds. The walls of the canyon were no longer lit by the light of day but now glowed, releasing the light that they had stored all day. Many beings that were still now stirred to use this time for what they do. As they now moved around the landscape they were more a part of the landscape itself slowly coming to life and undulating with their footsteps. Now was their time for watching, drinking and eating. 

As he trod along with the bucket to the river he remembered that once he had enjoyed being outside like this but he was just a child then, what did he know. I remember visiting my uncle’s farm when I was about nine years old. I enjoyed going out and feeding the animals, running around in the fields, following my uncle as he worked along the irrigation ditches and just generally seeing what kind of trouble I could get into. I went out after breakfast and didn’t come back till dark. I had forgotten about that. My father thought my uncle was an idiot for staying in farming. He’d always lecture my uncle about the economics of it all. My uncle would just smile this strange smile and politely listen to my father rant and rave at him and then just ask my father if he wanted some more lemonade. My uncle really was an idiot. My father was right as he always was. Too bad my father didn’t live to see my uncle die in his bed some years later. The kids didn’t want the farm and it was finally sold off. He should have listened. Farms are simply not good investments. Can’t control things. The weather, the water, the bugs and the demand for what you grow are variables that you can’t control. Bad business. 

At dusk as the world changes, the winds change. Water relentlessly seeks to bring energy together into one place, but the wind picks up the essence from the living rocks and plants and disperses it. The essence flows around the contours of the canyon. The breezes talk to all the beings, bringing messages of what neighbors are nearby and what essences are moving between the contours. Messages of life, death and passion migrate along the surface carried by the breezes. The air flows all around the bucketeer with his only notice being that it was cooler. Deaf to the canon being played by all the voices riding on the breeze. Aware of nothing outside. But yet all that was around him knew everything there really was to know about him. All languished in this moment between worlds and took small notice of the tiny footsteps to the river. 

I must be getting near the river soon. Look at all those animal tracks. I didn’t think there was anything around here. It’s just desert canyon with a river in it. I wonder what all the tracks are. Deer or something. What would be around here. Maybe bears. Don’t be stupid, bears are in forests. Maybe wolves. Wolves live in deserts, don’t they? Oh settle down, its probably just deer and small animals of some sort. You wouldn’t know what they were if you saw them. Never got around to taking up hunting. No time. Wouldn’t know a duck from a buck. Buck! That young buck of a son of mine is really making a mistake. Changing his major from Finance to what did he call it, forest something. I don’t remember, it doesn’t matter, it won’t make him any money. Doesn’t he see that? Where will he be in 30 years? He has stopped talking to me because he doesn’t want to hear what’s right. It means he won’t be coming back to the city when he graduates, probably go out west to the sticks somewhere. I was hoping that now that my business is running well and he is grown up that we could start spending some time together. I was hoping that this trip would show him that I can be outdoorsy too and that perhaps we can make some common ground to meet on. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else except my son. I have given him everything, but he doesn’t seem to appreciate it. I did miss a lot of his growing up but I provided anything and everything he could have wanted. Now he’s going to go off somewhere in a worthless job and not make enough money to have the kind of things that I provided for him. Maybe he will come to his senses. I did. I remember almost heading off to the Peace Corps when I was in my second year at the university. But that was really because the girl I was seeing was going and I thought I loved her. What did I know about love. Well I certainly came to my senses and stayed true to my plans of a business career. Luckily people outgrow those silly passions.

The world of twilight never outgrows the passions. It would be like trying to outgrow breathing. Every inhalation of the landscape gathers all the passions playing between its beings and returns them to their source. Every exhalation restores the common thread that ties all living things together as one. As the flow of energy moves across the land there are hot spots. One hot spot of passion was padding its way across its home. Awake from an afternoon rest, the desire to stretch itself and walk about. It felt a need to be awake and sense the transitions. This emptiness was driving it to the water at the joining of the creek and river. Standing on the overlook watching the hypnotizing river and feeling it felt its claws against the rock as it worked them in and out. Its tail was out and up, motionless. Standing as if one with the rock. Nothing moving except the wind in its hair. Totally aware. Then it saw it. Moving through the brush near the river. It had seen them before. No smell this time. Its alone. Maybe this time. Emptiness. Move. Down. Watch. Smell. 

It’s about time I got out of this business and enjoyed some of this money I’ve been investing all these years. Maybe I’ll pass it over to John. He’s been licking my boots for years hoping for it. I could live royally the rest of my years. Maybe take up hunting. Hunting in Africa or someplace. Big game. That would be exciting. What would I do with all my time. Spend time with Judy? Haven’t seen her much in twenty years. Don’t know that I want to. She’s been well provided for. God knows what she does with her time. As long as she’s not bothering me, I don’t care. If I retired, her life wouldn’t change, mine would. No more people to command, no business to run, no decisions to be made. What would I do with the 14 hours a day that I put in at the office. NO. No retirement. Not yet. Too much to do. Wasting my time on this stupid trip. Miss the excitement and adrenaline rush of the office. 

Now I can smell it. Maybe a deer instead. Emptiness. No deer. Behind it. Smell. Bad smell. Emptiness. Move. At water soon. Wait for it to drink. Then.

This is a lot of work for a bucket of water. I think that the guide just wanted to get rid of me. Get me out of his hair for a while. Nice spot. Kinda pretty. 

Its going down to drink. All tight and ready. Claws twitching. Tail swishing. Feel the energy swelling inside. Feel the hot. Focus. Leap !

The time of dreams for a short moment witnessed a release of energy. The flow is and continues. Moments of energy come and go like cresting waves on the ocean. There then gone. One just crested. It heard the burst of gravel behind it and turned in time to see two stiletto covered balls of fur approaching through the air followed by eyes burning with the reflection of its blood. Before it hit the ground it felt the stilettos driving into its flesh. Just as it landed in the swallows of the river it screamed then the first sounds of “help” were stopped by the foul breath and then teeth slamming into the other shoulder. Pain then a strange numbness, limpness. A pain that rendered you soundless. Unable to express its extreme through movement or utterances. Just total pain. It felt the thing hold it by the shoulder and shake it. Claws still in its shoulder. Rear claws moving around on its legs trying to get a grip. Realizing that it was its own blood coloring the water. Only one thought. Pain. 

Remember the taste. Bad. Deer better. Empty. Carry it away? Tastes oily. Smells. Deer better. Leave it. 

Claws digging, pulling. Pain. Jaws jerking. Then stopped. It fell to the water. It heard the splash of claws leaving. The created wave subsided. The ocean was clam again. Moving, swirling preparing for a new wave somewhere, sometime.

God the pain. I’m going to die. I know it. I feel weak, I can’t move. Breathe. Keep the water out of your mouth. I can just barely see my shoulder. How bad is it? I can see my skin is ripped up. Oh god, what’s left of me. I can’t feel enough to know what’s there. At least I’m facing up and can breathe. The pain shuts out everything. There is just the pain and the sky. This is it. To work all these years to die beside some river because of some animal. Can’t move. See just sky. Colorful sky. Pain, can’t think. The color of the sky is wonderful. Water running over my ears. Breeze blowing over me. These will be my last feelings. This moment. These colors, this air. No one here but me. Alone with the colors. Numb. Tired. Relaxed. Quiet. Dark!

The guide, two crew and four other members of the trip exploded through the brush to find their companion lying in the reddish water. 

“Get him out of the water,” said the guide giving the surrounding areas a quick look for signs of the cat nearby. It wouldn’t stay if it heard them which it could not have missed. After seeing no sign of it he returned his attention to the CEO. They were dragging him out of the water trying not to pull on his shoulders. 

“Let me see him!” The guide investigated the wounds with eyes that had seen enough torn flesh in his years to last two lifetimes. He knew he could probe the wounds since the CEO was out cold. Not bad at all. More of a mess than any real damage. He’ll be OK. Cat just torn him up. No punctures of anything important. He’ll have some nasty scares but he’ll be OK. This one will have a real story to tell when he gets back”