Jasper's Mountain - Part 2

Jasper’s cabin smells of smoke, from the continuous creation of fire for warmth and cooking. The site of animal hides can be seen from the kitchen window. These hides are strung up on the back porch and are strewn around the cabin, used for rugs and blankets, and their odor has seeped and set into the wood of the cabin. The aroma of tobacco smoke from his pipe that he spends time puffing each night lingers in the air, giving his home a distinct and comforting smell that elicits a tinge of happiness in Jasper as soon as he steps over the threshold and breathes it in.

He sets about making a fire for the night, adding logs that he brought in from the pile on the front porch. After he places the pot of rabbit soup he prepared on top of the fire grate, he sits back on his rabbit skin covered chair, and slowly drags his hand through his hair as he lets out a deep sigh. Letting his arm fall onto his lap, he inspects his hand with the caked dirt that constantly lives under his nail beds; evidence of living life in the woods. He places both of his hands, palm up, in front of his face. He takes note of how strong and callused they have become. As he tilts them, the light from the fire is caste across each detailed section of his hands, allowing him to take in all of the lines, cracks that have appeared over the years.  

What has this life brought me? I am but a man who has searched, faced loss, survived, and am searching, yet again. For what though? What do I want from this earth that gives me water, food, tools to build shelter, and tools not only to survive, but to create that which is not even necessary. Like this cabin and all that it holds.

Jasper’s eyes scan around the room, littered with fur skins, and scant furniture, and sees abundance and fortune.

Yet, even with my present fortunate standing, I am not fulfilled. My humanistic desires still crave more. Is this all that there is for me on this earth? Living here in isolation and silence?

Jasper’s thoughts led him all the way to bed, and he fell asleep into an unsettling slumber.

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Jasper awakes in a cold sweat and a heart full of anxiety. He slowly pulls his fur blanket off and places his feet on the cool wood floor as he grabs the back of his neck, pulling his chin down towards his belly, and exhales in a long, drawn out breath. He pushes his hands off of the top of his thighs as he stands up and walks to wash his face in the bowl of water he keeps in the room.

Shake this feeling, or do something about it, Jasper.

Before heading out for the day, Jasper looks back into his prosperous cabin, scanning over his life that he lives and then shuts the door. He swings his shotgun over his shoulder and takes in the new layer of snow that fell through the night. The snow was deep enough for him to need to strap on his snowshoes he made of treebark before setting out on his trek.

The only sound that could be heard was the crunching of the snow under each step Jasper took and the soft pitter of the snowflakes hitting the white floor, that continued to pile higher. This area of the forest was populated with a large amount of fir trees, and Jasper walks in a line that was naturally created between the firs. From the point of view of the falcon that flies by, there is one lone, fur covered man moving ever so slow through the forest, with nothing but miles of evergreens, steep inclines, the winding path of the river. Jasper hikes farther and farther away from the cabin, creating a vast space between himself and his home of happiness. He keeps his eyes transfixed on the path straight ahead that he has marked out for himself.

Jasper hikes east out of his valley, towards the unknown.

Jasper's Mountain

I have decided to write a story that will build on itself weekly, on my blog. This will be a raw work in progress and I hope the evolution of it will create something intriguing if not perfected. I am excited and nervous to be trying out this approach to writing a story. I hope you enjoy following along. As always, I would love to hear feedback from you if you so desire to give it. 

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Lead me down to the green, lush pasture. To the clear, cold, steady creek. There will I lay my woes. There will I find peace as I stretch my wasted body on the grass and dip my fingers into that which gives life. Then will I find rest.

These are the words Jasper repeats over and over again in his head. This is what keeps him moving and breathing. As he exhales, his breath castes a ghost out into the open mountain air. His moustache is frozen with snot that continuously seeps out of his nose and clings to his coarse hair.    

Spring is approaching, yet the snow continues to drift down, one by one, like silent parachuting soldiers. The land appears desolate with bare, leafless trees, pale white skies and deafening silence, interrupted only by his footsteps or those of an unexpected animal.

He sweeps his eyes across the snow covered ground in search of any game to be killed for dinner. Two birds fly off of a tree and chirp their way through the open plain in search of food. His eyes follow them until they fly out of sight.

What beauty there is to feast my eyes upon even in the midst of such a desolate, isolated, cold winter. My hands have been numb for these past six months and await for the day they will be thawed and returned to life. Yet, they continue to work and kill and create. I am tired and ready to rest.

Jasper gives up on hunting today and checks his traps he put out earlier. There, in his traps, he finds two rabbits. The rest of the empty traps are left untouched in hopes of catching small animals at another time. For this is life for Jasper; the constant search and need for sustenance to survive in these barren mountains.  After tying the rabbits up, he slings them over his shoulder opposite of the one that carries his shotgun and begins his trek home.

One step at a time he moves through the snow with his eyes set straight ahead towards his path. An hour later, Jasper arrives home with the last rays of the sun in the sky. He looks up into the sky before entering his cabin and shuts his eyes for a brief moment and inhales deeply through his chapped, parted lips. As he slowly opens his piercing blue eyes, a tear escapes and rolls down his cheek.

I am tired.

Kicking his boots on the side of the cabin, against the weathered wood, he leaves behind the day’s wanderings full of snow, thick mud and dissatisfaction in hopes for a break in routine that may come tomorrow or the next day.

One Year Mark - A Positive Outlook

As promised, I am writing on the one year mark of our apartment burning down. Today signifies a day of immense change and moving forward towards our passions and burning desires of what we want out of this life. Losing everything in one fell swoop was a wake up call for me and Austin. We hold on tighter in our hugs, we take more thoughtful care in the words we express to each other and others with which we come into contact, we love from a place far deeper than either of us knew possible, and we let go from that which holds us back from reaching our potential.

From the outside, you may not see much of a change from the two of us, but inside, as we continue on our life journey hand-in-hand, our roots are twisted and grown down farther and stronger, and we stand grounded in who are individually, as well as who we are as a unit. Tragedy brings a new wisdom and outlook on life than before. We know we are two of many who face heartache and tragedy, and that others encounter far worse than we even experienced in this isolated event. This daily remembrance is sobering.

I cannot say I am happy about having to flee from my burning down home and having to start over, but I am so grateful for how it has shaped me for the better. Watching as others go through the shit that life has dumped on their heads, I am able to more appropriately respond and give support and comfort. I am not an expert on how to counsel everyone through these hardships, but I have more clarity on how these things effect and end up shaping us, which has turned me into a more sensitive and understanding lover, sister, daughter, friend or even at times stranger.

Life is a gift. There is no way to know how long that gift will last. Austin and I want to make this life count. We wish to do all of the things we strive to accomplish and experience and not let anything stand in our way. This year I wrote my first short and started a weekly blog. Austin quit his job and is now a freelance Motion Designer. We are chasing after our passions. This year was a year of hard work and determination. It was a year of being broken and put back together with a stronger foundation. Throughout this year, I have found my confidence and fire. I am fierce has become my new mantra and I believe I am capable of doing anything my heart desires.

I think this year will be a time for more hard work, but I think we will also begin seeing the benefits of that time and energy we have been putting into our work. We have plans to take my writing, Austin’s designing and business ventures to the next level this year. By this time next year, I hope to report back with a slew of new change that has taken place in mine and Austin’s lives. Till then, cheers to a positive outlook and working your ass off to get what you want out of this life.