The pondering that kicks off whenever I go camping tends to focus my monkey mind while I am out and about in the wild spaces. My focus lingers for diminishing days until the monkey resumes control. Or, more accurately, the monkey resumes the lack of control, scattering thoughts, making it difficult to write a coherent sentence, let alone an enticing essay or a seductive story worth reading. Camping brings me close to the source, the fount of energy oozing from every cell in every plant, animal, rock, and microbe, intimate with their natural surroundings. It is an enclave of mystical miasma existing in a harmonious balance that befuddled the modern human mind, stuck, as it is, in the cluttered city with so much noise, rational thought becomes a challenge, and human-on-human violence the unfortunate byproduct.

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