A Red Fox

Out walking yesterday morning, we saw a red fox.  He was a handsome guy, and came racing across our path from an untilled field, disappearing into the woods.  Where had he been hiding?  The field appeared open and barren, with nothing more than stumpy weeds to hide among.  Last year there were pumpkins in this field, and maybe now the fox has a den here.  

What will the farmer plant this year?  As we walked, we could hear the farmer's tractor in another field, tilling. Maybe this field will be left fallow, and the fox will be undisturbed.

We were lucky to see him, a tawny red blur. The dog took off after him, but stopped when we called him away. We needn't have worried, the fox was too fast, and gone in the blink of an eye.

And we were left to ask one another, was that a fox?  

Did you see how long its tail was?  Where had it been hiding when we passed the field earlier?  Where did it enter the thicket?

No trail, no sign, just a few scratchy claw marks in the mud.

This morning, I don't want my "idea" of  fox.

I want the "experience".

But my mind has already created the idea, and here, my words have unified and stilled the experience in order to communicate it.  

But is this all I am left with?

What is the experience of fox? 

Where and how does that reside?

To the dull mind nature is leaden.

To the illumined mind the whole world burns

and sparkles with light.

--Emerson