There are some riled up folk putting stories under attack. Those fearful of ideas, with their twisty troll logic, only draw more attention to the very stories they’re trying to ban. More effective than glowing reviews! If a book’s been forbidden, that is the book I seek. But then I don’t outsource my thinking. I prefer it comes from my own head.

I aspire to have my stories banned. My expressed opinions extremely critical of this nation, our political system, our species. Strike 1. I’m a part of the LGBTQ+ community. Strike 2. My beliefs fall far outside organized religion, decidedly suspicious of dogma & its motives. 3 strikes should do it, but I’m still too obscure. I never thought it would be so hard to piss already-angry people off. Apparently they only want to ban works by prominent authors. That’s some bullshit discrimination right there!

As a child of 6 or 7, I went camping with the fam at Larrabee State Park, up Chuckanut Drive. The drive displayed amazing vistas of forest & shore. It was late Friday evening by the time we’d gotten the trailer set up & ate supper. We all hit the sleeping bags soon thereafter.

The next morning I wandered with a snack of sunflower seeds among the towering trees & sparse understory brush. There were some ferns & a few bushes I couldn’t identify; mostly it was a flat carpet of needles & cones on the dry dirt between giants. I sat down with my back to a trunk, crunching seeds & spitting out shells. Then movement caught my eye.

An adorable striped critter about the size of a gerbil came down off a tree & regarded me. Though I’d been camping countless times, this was the first chipmunk I’d ever seen. Much cuter than squirrels, particularly the invasive gray ones. I was instantly drawn to the distinctive markings, the mini-size. I tossed them a seed.

The wee rodent only hesitated a few seconds, then hopped forward, grasped the seed in tiny hands, cracked the shell & began nibbling. I knew better than to feed wildlife when camping. It’s not only strenuously warned against, but illegal. I knew the reasons for this as well: detrimental all around. Yet here I was enchanted by this minuscule furry creature. In my defense, I was only 7. I inherited my rebellious streak directly from my mother. As she used to say “You didn’t just lick it off the bushes.” To which I’d respond “Ew!”

Chipmunk word traveled fast: There’s free exotic food here! As though I’d opened a haute cuisine restaurant in a desert of gruel shacks, they multiplied exponentially. Instead of being alarmed at the onslaught, I got bolder. I wondered how close they would come. Found out chipmunks were not wary at all. A couple came right up & touched me with those tiny hands. Then one climbed onto my leg. They took the seeds straight from my fingers.

By the time one descended the tree I was leaning against, crawled down my shoulder & parked themselves on my wrist happily noshing, that brazen act opened the floodgates. I was now the jungle gym for the entire population. While covered in chipmunks was not my intent, I wondered what would happen when the seed bag ran empty. This was both really cool & bordering on panic, hitting every note in the range of emotions that is ‘awe.’

At Point Defiance Zoo several years ago I approached a small group of people standing near a large pool. With a mere 12-inch tall guardrail about 6 feet from the water, I wasn’t the only one here to think ‘what the hell’ & step over it. The pool housed a dolphin & a beluga whale. When they saw us coming near, both swam over to the water’s edge as if welcoming us rule-breakers for a close encounter. So that’s what we did. Four of us flopped down on our bellies on the ground to pet the aquatic mammals. This was especially wild for me because I don’t swim. How else would I ever get to meet cetaceans face to face?

I interject here why the public is usually prohibited from contact with zoo animals: it’s possible to transmit harmful bacteria to them. Though I would hate to be the cause of another creature’s illness, part of me asked myself ‘Then why don’t they have a taller fence?’ Granted, that’s the devil’s advocate part of me, but it is mentally healthier to acknowledge & integrate these parts of the self. That’s all the psychoburble I got. & no, that’s not a typo.

The dolphin peeked at me then swam over, the whale as well. They visited each of us, giving undivided attention one after another. Their eyes had the smiliest ‘Hi! Who are you?’ gaze. They held eye contact & got even closer as we petted them. Their skin felt like the densest sponge imaginable. The whale opened her mouth in a huge grin, & I saw little nubbins of teeth. I even took the liberty of touching her soft pink tongue. Her eyes twinkled at the novel taste.

This story has brought the usual comments: ‘The animals only expected to be fed.’ Yet they lingered while no food was offered. There was curiosity there in eyes & body language. I’ve had it with those who downplay animal intelligence: ‘Being captive creatures, they were simply bored.’ If I was able to relieve any boredom on their part, then hooray for me! It’s no small feat to entertain another species.

In the shade of old growth evergreens, a few rays poke through the canopy. Summer in a cemetery, 3 butterflies twirl in sunbeams. Sydney & I stand transfixed. She shoots me a look that says ‘Can I dance with the butters?’ [in my head we both use this nickname]

“Off you pop,” I reply. This is how I picture the scene:

‘Why a cave painting?’ one might ask. This experience is sacred to me. It feels like a mystery to leave behind for future beings. Sydney didn’t bark or chase the lepidoptera like she did squirrels or crows. She did her happy bunny hops instead. She made a waltz of joy.

While pagan and heathen are both great words in themselves, labels are for filing cabinets. I like to keep myself guessing about me. A sure way to irk censors is to defy definition.