THE MEADOW

Journal Entry

THOUGHTS™

03–29–2022

︎ Writer: Stew Caldo




My thoughts are so scrambled - in a beautiful way. All I can think about is the meadow. About laying under that tree, sunlight pouring in through the gangly branches. Those branches that hang across entire walkways – competing with one another for sunlight. In that grass, ankle high, that danced in the wind. Next to the creek that ran on and on and on, keeping silence from taking over. I've never disassociated like this before. I feel like I'm still there. In my mind, I can bring myself back there. I can feel that moment again.


I felt like a child, laying under a tree in the grass. Looking up at the branches. Looking at the sky sometimes. Saying whatever words came to my head. I felt like a child. There was nothing I was afraid of. There was nothing I was looking forward to. All I could think about was right in front of me. There was no fear. I wanted to run around through the field - explore, and throw things into the forest. I felt like a child.


The meadow felt like a metaphor. Maybe not a metaphor, maybe a hyperbole of some sort? I'm not sure what english / bull-shit word I'm trying to use right now. But it felt surreal. It felt connected to a feeling. Safety? Hope? Awe?


I'm not sure what I felt in the first few minutes we walked through the gate. It was so fucking beautiful. But I've seen nature before - stunning sights. Things words couldn't describe. But this was different.


I had no phone, wallet, or keys in my pocket. I knew how to get back to where home was, but in that moment nobody needed to know where I was or what I was doing. I read a book, sat on my blanket. And then, drank a beer. Beer had never felt so romantic. Never more than on that blanket in the sun. I read Bukowski. A polar opposite to the environment / mood I was in. But I liked the contrast.


I read for a long time on the blanket. The wind had changed, [REDACTED NAME] and [REDACTED NAME] had left. I set the beer down next to me, finished. Laid my head back, and looked up again. Felt the trees breathe with me once more, their branches entangled with one another creating a canopy of shade for me. That's the moment I go to when I close my eyes now. That's where I picture myself when I get lost in my head.


I've found safety in people. But never in a place. The Meadow was special.


Moving on from the surrealism that was banging around in my head - there was also the entire trip itself. Outside the meadow sat my fucked up truck, my fucked up tent, and two cots for [REDACTED NAME] and [REDACTED NAME]. We had a cooler full of beer, steak, soup, salad, and some PB and J's. We had good balance. In the past, I've gone overboard on the chili. I don't know what it is about Chili that seems so appealing in the moment – but next thing you know, you're sitting with a big ass bowl of chili asking yourself "Why the hell did I make all this chili?". Feels like an analogy for something deeper, but we'll leave it for now.


We sat at the lifeless campsite - it was probably 3PM. I say lifeless, not for lack of beauty, but because [REDACTED].


[REDACTED]. I grabbed a beer. I'm not sure when I began to love beer, but lately I've been day dreaming about a beer in the woods. It was a Pacifico. I spotted a patch of grass in a hallmark spotlight just across the creek. We hiked our chairs across, set up a sitting area of sorts, and began drinking and bull shitting. Bull shitting is really grasping for straws. Honestly, the shit we talked about was damn near mindless. But I swear, we were comedians. The shit that was said around the circle still makes me tear up – even now. We joked about how [REDACTED NAME] looked like he had teleported to us from [REDACTED]. He wore green hiking pants, black boots, a black tanktop, and vintage sunglasses. He had a chain that hung loose around his neck - and a Jim Morrison hair cut that could gas light you through a photo. With the light behind him, shirt off sitting on an old cot – we were convinced he had teleported to us straight off an army base in 1969. [REDACTED NAME] and I took a film photo of him – [REDACTED NAME] joked that I was taking a honeymoon photo of him. We died over that one. It would be one to show the kids one day.


[REDACTED NAME] began swatting flies off himself. He looked like horse, swatting his tail around his body. I laughed to myself. Then, he made an off hand remark about how stupid we are for sitting inside all day on our computers. My head was lost somewhere between the last thought of him being a horse, and this new conversation. I blurted out "Yeah, we're so fucking dumb. Just a bunch of horses in buildings, with our pretty little language". It was far out in left field. Even after blurting it out, I realized how dumb it sounded.


We were in tears over that. Stitches.


Another beer.


The rest of the afternoon went on like this. I've never laughed so much in my life. Watching [REDACTED NAME] try and make a PB and J. Peanut butter dripping from the jar, all over his hands and the table.


Another beer.


We talked about how the horse in the building was really a great concept. We imagined horses sitting at keyboards in an office, clomping their stupid hooves at a computer. How funny it was to think about. And how not far off it was to think of ourselves in the same light. How dark it is, that we spend our entire lives sitting at a desk. Even our communication happens in the form of a video call. And sadly, not even then can we make eye contact. We're still clomping away at the keyboard, as others talk through the screen. We mute ourselves, making sure we don't annoy anyone with our loud hooves typing away. Just a bunch of horses in buildings, with their pretty little language.


Another beer.


Then, we decided to take a walk. [REDACTED NAME] prompted us.


That's when we found the meadow. That's when endless laughter turned into serious awe. A core memory being ingrained. Walking through the gate, sun rays and fog throughout a row of ancient trees. Stumbling upon something that few may ever see. At this time of day. This time of year. It was all perfect. It was a show for us. Nothing could take my mind away from there. Even now that I'm gone, my mind is still there.