A Pure Moose Mind by Sarah Maio

The middle of my lane was filled with a solid chunk of nature. As I skidded toward the moose, I was smacked by my foolishness of thinking my truck was enough to transport me from one place to another, 90 miles away, through everything a driver encounters on Alaskan winter highways. After seeing the moose, I saw my truck for what it was-thin, wimpy, plastic. It didn't even matter if it was there at all. The moose was standing in the road, looking at me! Just looking! Ears up! Staring at my bright red, shiny, bubble, sliding forward on round wheels, moving fast. I let off the breaks and wasn't sliding anymore. But I was barreling fast toward the moose. I slammed on the breaks again, this time the back end of the truck, loaded with sand and rocks from the beach for traction, swung out into the oncoming lane.

I imagined the bloody scene, my blood. I imagined events coming forward onto me like when you get caught in the undertow in the ocean and you're churning around, the sand floor scouring your face, and any part of the face is fair game, and you just can't believe the positions you're getting put into-that's what I imagined, only on icy roads, an uphill curve, another car could be coming, a moose staring at you with huge body mass, and so tall that I, sitting in a truck, am only at its shoulder level. I've heard stories, too, that moose don't always kill you on impact but kick you to death after the hit. I imagined the crack of the impact-that moment where you realize that the unbelievable, the thing that could never happen to you, is happening and you have no control. Then, the slow motion shuffle of the steering wheel, windshield and other items I once looked at as familiar would now be entering my space at different angles and bodily contact points. These objects will now be thought of as the last things I will see while living. I know I won't be able to believe these things are happening to me. I won't believe my new view of the steering wheel and windshield. I won't believe their bending, breaking, and shattering. I won't believe the reality of the impact, the moose fur touching me, the twitching of the moose, or, worse, the kicking. I won't believe my broken bones, smashed body parts, or that I'm taking my last breath.

The moose was still frozen on the road, staring, and I was already into my 3rd or 4th skid. I felt like my truck was skiing-slide to the left, to the right, back to the left, all toward the moose. This moose has a good chance of dying. And all because she is looking. An innocent moose, innocently looking. She's staring at me because she's trying to make sense out of me, trying to find something to relate me to. And me? Every time I drive this drive, I realize that I might kill a moose. And I always take the chance. Sometimes I up the chance by driving fast because I feel like it.

Sure I know I can risk the moose's life because I'm a human and we can kill lots of things without a thought, but why do I choose to risk my own life? Every time I almost hit and kill a moose, I almost kill myself, too. But I keep driving. I keep going to classes. I keep planning for the future. I remember now what I always forget, live for the moment. Now that I've remembered, I'm ok. My life has been my life and now I am dying and it's no big deal. Do you know how many people in the world are dying right at this moment? I am one of them, so, big whoop. I know what I believe in when it comes to dying. You get control of your mind and get prepared for whatever comes next. Being ready, eager, and strong so you can face whatever your next thing is. I was working hard to avoid death, though, as my mind frantically tried to guess what the moose would do after her frozen spell was over.

My facial muscles and upper body muscles convulsed sharply at the thought of the pain showing on my husband's face when he hears of my death on the road. He will be sad and troubled by this change in his life. I was swiftly reassured remembering the solid ground his mind has to stand on. For years he has been studying Buddhism. He has been studying the mind and characteristics of the mind that help reduce suffering for all those around you, which, in turn, decreases your own suffering. Being sold on that structure of mind, I know he will have lots of tools, rationalities, and healthy support to lean on--if he can hold it together. He has always held it together and I've always wondered if there will be a time when he breaks.

The moose started swerving on the road. She was over the shock that plastic causes nature. Her legs were like four branches each wanting to go in a different direction. I saw her flesh shake and jiggle as her flight kept changing directions and I felt sorry for making this moose work so hard. Seeing the suffering I was creating in this moose, I felt like my life had been a mistake. I should have lived differently. I should have genuinely wanted to strive to reduce the suffering of those around me. If I had, I wouldn't be taking such a chance with this moose's life. Think of all the bugs my tires have killed! I've killed birds as they've flown into my windshield. Think of all the pain I've created other people because of my own personality flaws. I've created suffering and lots of it. But what is life without driving? Or the countless other things I've done that have caused harm to others. I've done too much harm and not enough good and worse, I thought I was doing good. I thought I believed in so many things. I thought I lived my life kindly. But I lived as a hypocrite. And if I get rewarded yet again for being a hypocrite by not getting killed right now, I will continue to be a hypocrite. I will continue to think of myself and where I want to go on which road in whatever kind of car I want at the time. I will forget about this moose and the feelings I had toward this pure creature of nature who never did me any harm. I will continue to strive for dollar bills to buy plastic things I will use for how ever long I want and then I will just throw them away in a plastic garbage bag and have the whole thing sit on the earth somewhere where I can't see it ever again.

I watched the quick deterioration of the memory in my mind of this whole event as the moose ran toward the opposite lane's ditch. Everything, all the feelings and thoughts and instincts I had experienced over the past 4-6 seconds were becoming fuzzy and dull and racing fast to a dark corner of my brain to be tightly stored--to be forgotten until the next time that this same thing happens again.

Just as the memory was being locked away, an undertow of dread whisked it back as the moose changed her mind and was now running along side me on the road! The window on my door barely framed the broadside picture of this large moose and we shared, for a tiny moment, an intimate look into each other's eyes-each of us knowing the way we want things to work out, each of us knowing what the other wants. But being the moose would be so much better. If only I could be the innocent moose instead of myself. The moose's eyes had no look of murder. The moose's eyes had no look of shame. The moose had no guilt. The moose had no control over this situation happening and I was jealous. I had set out knowing all the risks.

The speedometer showed that both I and the moose were going 30 miles per hour. I was shocked that the moose could go this fast and began to reimagine the new and worse conditions we could now end up in. The bloody images of a red, stained highway were just barely tipping over and starting to flood my brain again, when the moose sprinted away, into the forest. And was gone.

I took notice of my mind and was surprised to witness the deterioration of the memory again! This time! So fast! It was all swirling, swirling down toward a vast, hungry black hole. I only caught glimpses of it funneling away-pureness of nature, plastic-evil, selfishness, can't see the whole picture, can only see my...

Fffffoom! Back in my truck. Heartrate is returning to normal. Breathe normally. Take a sip. Listen to radio. Bring thoughts away from here. Now, what was I thinking about before?

Sarah Maio
P.O. Box 15354
Fritz Creek, AK 99603
907-235-5622
cmaioak@hotmail.com
I am a KPC elementary education student.
March 6, 2002

Terry Thompson,
Career Center Coordinator Representing
KPC in The Peninsula Sled Dog Racing
Association's Annual Businessman's Race