sometimes dreadful sense
lonely with his burden once
buoyancy is gone
For rarely is a man so alone as on the trail, especially under a canoe. He is then shut off completely from his fellow. Tom and I have sat for hours by a camp-fire at night, without a word to each other, each of us thinking his own thoughts, but with a most acute sense of companionship. Meditation is not lonely, even when it is solitary. But on the trail, with a heavy load, and weary, a man is intensely alone. The exertion, the pounding activity, the noise of one’s own heavy breathing, of one’s own heart beating, the implacable insistence of sweat — all these give something of the loneliness of severe pain, and forbid the soothing attunement of the spirit to the universe, which makes communion out of contemplation. In a sometimes dreadful sense, a man is lonely with his burden on the trail, once it has become a burden, once the buoyancy is gone.
From the book, The Incomplete Anglers by John Daniel Robins, Wm. Collins Sons & Co. Canada Ltd,1943.
But on the trail, with a heavy load, and weary, a man is intensely alone.
The exertion, the pounding activity, the noise of one’s own heavy breathing, of one’s own heart beating, the implacable insistence of sweat — all these give something of the loneliness of severe pain, and forbid the soothing attunement of the spirit to the universe, which makes communion out of contemplation.
In a sometimes dreadful sense, a man is lonely with his burden on the trail, once it has become a burden, once the buoyancy is gone.
Once more, the loneliness of severe pain, forbids the soothing attunement of the spirit to the universe, which makes communion out of contemplation.
No wonder sometimes I feel so tired, once that buoyancy is gone.
And once that buoyancy is gone, how do you get it back?
Sometimes no price would be too high for just a solid night of sleep.
No Haiku For You 