The Girl, The Old Man, and The Bear

By David A. Joyce

In "The Girl, The Old Man, and The Bear," an unlikely trio finds themselves together in the midst of an early snowstorm in the mountains. The young girl, the old man, and the bear are forced to rely on each other and seek refuge in a cave.

As the storm rages outside, inside the cave sparks profound conversations. Exploring themes such as luck and choice, wisdom and learning, regret and forgiveness, faith, the value of time and the worth of a life, and the interconnectedness of all beings, they each bring their unique experiences to the discussions. The readers are taken on a journey through these various perspectives, seeing life through different stages of life, and almost feeling like a participant in the conversation.

Each character leaves the cave in their own unique way, but not before they've shared insights that challenge the reader to see the world from fresh viewpoints. The dialogues between the characters have a universal appeal, which can easily translate into conversations between family members, friends, or even strangers.

The concluding chapter, a contemplative story-within-a-chapter, leaves the reader in a space of deep introspection, satisfied with the journey yet longing for more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350909531

Book preview

Chapter 1:

Introductions

The Bear did not know of years or ages or how long it had wandered this territory. It only knew that it ‘was’ and that was mostly enough. It also knew in some way that it was a small part of something bigger than itself, just like the First Bear had known that it was part of a larger world that was connected to the First River, First Deer, First Tree, and everything that had existed before and would follow after. The Bear was part of everything; past, present, and future. This meant that Time was all around and within, but not something which needed defining. The Bear’s instincts had been refined throughout its life, and the depth of those instincts was the best measurement of the journey of the Bear. But it did not know anything about years or days or minutes or the passing of those. It had no use for such things. The Bear knew, without being aware that it knew, that there was great peace and contentment in ‘being in now.’

The Old Man knew of years and seasons of course, but had long ago lost track of exactly how many of either he had walked this earth. Those were just numbers, and he knew his number was more than many others’. The wrinkle-lines on his weathered face and around his tired eyes told stories that words (or his memory) no longer could. They were like an old worn-out roadmap looking back on his life’s journey, with some lines marking the well-traveled highways of his greatest successes and others showing the routes to his deepest failures. Some lines were borne of trials and triumphs, while others were from laughter and easy smiles. If one looked close enough one might see, like that old highway map, the lines on his face sometimes branched out from an existing line. One might see that this showed the many directions that life’s roads often present to us on our way. He felt deeply connected (sometimes) to all other human beings even if he did not always agree with them. He also felt connected to the rivers, animals, trees, and all other aspects of nature in the world. But time? He had no use for measuring that anymore. Too much had passed.

The Girl knew she was ten, but only because people told her she was ten years old. She didn’t quite understand yet how ten could also be old in the same sentence and she was just beginning to understand the measurement of her life in years. She did know that older people were numbers that she could not imagine, even when she played grown-up. Her parents told her she was a gift from God, but she did not really know what that meant. She was curious and asked a lot of questions, and many adults in her life had grown tired of answering them. She was not tired of asking though, or learning. It was as though she was trying to find connections with as much in the world around her as she could. But her age? Or Time? These were things that she was only connected to because people talked to her in those terms. She was just now starting to see the definitive measurements of her existence in the world. She was not sure she liked being confined by those measurements, even if she couldn’t articulate that just yet.

When these three paths connected on that snowy mountain, histories and futures intersected. When their thoughts were shared, worlds opened up. When they moved on, who would believe them? An improbable conversation in an impossible situation, The Girl, the Old Man, and the Bear, have a story. Each of them, individually; and as a group.

But no story is ever just a story.

The Girl Sets Out

The Girl was a single-mindedly ten-year-old mad as she stomped away from her family’s campsite that mid-morning. She had wanted to do one thing, her parents said no, so here she was stomping off into the damp, mountainous woods with her arms folded defiantly across her chest. She hadn’t wanted to go camping anyway. She wished she was back at her house playing in the yard with neighborhood friends in these early autumn days not long after the new school year began. The family had already been out here for two of the longest days she could remember. It had gotten steadily and significantly colder since last night, and rain had begun to fall. Like most kids, the Girl didn’t mind the rain and it was always fun to see your breath in the cold air. But to be sure, she was done camping.

A few minutes removed from not getting her way (pouting of course) and a few minutes into the quiet peace of the forest, she had forgotten that she was angry.

Nature has a way of doing that for us.

At times it was a steep, wet climb up and around some of the fallen trees and large rocks. Sometimes she would climb atop one of the ancient, massive, downed trees, walk carefully and creatively along its slippery length, and at the end, thrust up her arms in triumph at the feat she had just accomplished. The other smaller trees and the bushes and the boulders became her audience, and she heard the roars of her admirers in the wind and saw them rise to their feet in wild applause. The cold rain was confetti and glitter falling down and being blown by the wind all around her, celebrating her one-person performance. Bowing gracefully, she jumped down and continued on her way.

When a child explores like this, they aren’t really lost. Maybe the parents feel the child is lost, but the child knows exactly where he or she is: right there. Sure, some places are more familiar than others and some faces are more friendly, but where the child is- is where the child is. The rest of the known world just kind of melts away. In some cases, that’s a good thing.

In moments like these, Time similarly loses meaning. A child is told when to get up, when to eat, when to go to school, when to leave school, when to be home, when to wash up, when to eat dinner, and when to go to bed again. What use does a child have for Time, when everyone else determines when everything happens?

So, Time and Place become abstract ideas that, boiled down to the basics, mean only this: we are where we are, in the moment we are. Most children may not necessarily say this, but they know it on some level better than many adults do, and they are quite content in each given Time and Place.

Adults could learn a lot from children.

The girl continued on her way as the wet undergrowth thinned here and there, offering secret glimpses into places just beyond her imagination. Sometimes she was following a deer or elk trail, but she didn’t know that’s what they were. She only knew there was a path of some sort, and it made sense to follow it. Some paths are made for following, some are made for avoiding. Without the constraints of Time or Place, or too much self-debate, she sensed without knowing that these paths were to be followed.

She heard the songs of the different birds in the trees above and around her, and she heard the chattering of chipmunks and squirrels and who knows what other creatures, as they observed this most peculiar visitor to their world. It could have been that they were all looking to get home before the weather changed too dramatically, but that did not concern her right now. At times she would catch sight of movement just off to one side or another and look quickly in that direction to see what it was, but often saw only more trees, boulders, and rocks. And her breath in the cold and windy air.

She did not fear her unfamiliar surroundings any more than she feared what might be just beyond what she could see.

Stories had been read to her when she was very little, and she had read stories herself as she grew. Nothing she had heard or read caused her to think that the animals in the forest were anything but playful and good. And even if the Big Bad Wolf lived out here, she wondered why he would be so bad? Was someone mean to him once? Were a lot of someone’s mean to him a lot? Why would she be afraid of something she didn’t know?

So, she journeyed on.

The cold, steady rain had been turning to snow for a while now, and it was transforming her surroundings in ways that lifted her spirits even more. As some of the blowing snow began sticking to the ground, she found herself in the beginnings of a winter wonderland and it made her think of all the fun she’d have in the snow this coming winter. She was already looking forward to those days when school is cancelled and kids get to meet up and play instead of going to the classroom.

This snowy experience, however, would be much different than any she had seen before.

The Old Man Walks On

The Old Man was tired. Physically, he was tired from days of walking in these mountains. Actually, if all the days were added up, he had been out here for years, although his latest trek was just about a week. He loved every peak, lake, and valley, and he loved the solitude (and company) that everything in nature provides. But as much as he welcomed all that was good about those things, he cursed the fact that his body could no longer leap from boulder to boulder or scale the inclines of a steep saddle ridge without his ankles aching in protest. He wished he could simply climb into the higher elevations without his lungs and legs screaming at him to stop and rest more often.

He knew these mountains very well, and the mountains in every direction the eye could see. He had wandered and explored here as a child with his father and grandfather many years ago. He learned not only how to survive out here, but to live and thrive out here. His father and grandfather had taught him that this earth and the Source of All Things would provide what a person needs, if only a person was willing to work for it. They taught him to put effort into those things and how to let the earth work with him. They taught him that some people exist, while others truly live. He had learned not to expect something for nothing, and to respect the healthy balance of giving and receiving. That had made quite the difference and he was quite thankful for all those learnings.

Lessons handed down for hundreds (thousands?) of years can’t be all bad.

He had also taken refuge here when he escaped custody some years back. The Old Man had known from decades of exploring countless miles of this range and the ranges nearby, that he would likely find respite here from what some called ‘civilization.’ He was fairly certain when he escaped the officers and became a fugitive, that not many people would brave these wilds or chance the unforgiving terrain and unpredictable weather here just to find some crazy Old Man. Regardless of the crimes he was accused of, he was pretty sure no one had been looking for him up here. But then again, he wasn’t content to sit and wait for them to catch him and put him back in a cage surrounded by steel and concrete.

So, he kept moving, the pack on his back seeming to add weight with every turn of his path.

While he was at times exhausted or sore, either from overconfidence in his abilities, or an underestimation of his real age, he was also at peace up here. Mostly. Rarely did he come across another human being. Most of his contact with humans was when he hiked into the nearest towns, all within a two- or three-day journey depending on the conditions. He reluctantly went to town for some of the more staple items he needed. He and his ancestors had been ‘saved’ long ago from their abilities to live entirely off the land. They had become ‘civilized’ and had gone from knowing exactly what they ate, to having to read what they were eating on the outside of some jar, can, or box. Most of those ingredients he (and many people) couldn’t even pronounce, let alone know what it was or what it did to the body or mind.

And people wonder why they are overweight, tired, sick, or lost in the head.

He was not in touch with as much of the earth as his ancestors had been generations ago, but the Old Man tried to bridge the two worlds as best he could: To town for the things he needed but could not get or make in the mountains, and back to the mountains to hunt small