Don’t Take It Serious, Life’s Too Mysterious

Some years ago, I stuck a quote on my  bathroom mirror (helpful reminders and all), about maintaining balance.  “Don’t overreact.  Keep things in perspective.”  This was from a person discussing what it took to make monastic life workable.

Today I had two good, if perhaps silly, opportunities to ponder this concept.  First, mirrors.  HOLY CATS.  I don’t know about you, but it seems to me that mirrors are just as weird as they are said to be in fairy tales.  They possess strange powers to confer the magical qualities of glamour.  And anti-glamour.  If *I* ruled the world they would all be the same.  Then one would not have the jarring experience I had today of seeing myself in a friend’s hall which is covered in mirror tiles, looking like a…a…well.  Like a humongous dumpling.  When I left home earlier for this venture I had, of course, checked the appearance so as not to be completely inappropriate from front or rear.  At home, while perhaps not svelte, the effect was CERTAINLY NOT DUMPLING LIKE.  This visual event, then,  of course plunged me into a huge despondency.

From whence I had barely crawled after this morning’s encounter with, yes, Boozilla.  A parrot has a brain, I reckon, about the size of an almond? maybe? But they are smart.  And temperamental.  Perhaps they. like we, also overract.  In any event, this morning as I proceed to feed the ravening beaks (as usual, I might add.  As in like every other day since they’ve been born almost.), I open Boo(zilla’s) cage, and not only will she not come out?  She actually goes and hides herself behind her little snuggle mat on the side of the cage.  Perhaps affecting a bit of a limp.  Being a COMPLETE NINNY I of course go get the Partner, with whom both of these creatures are madly, deeply, totally in love, to check.  There’s nothing wrong with her, he said tonelessly through clenched teeth.  Guess what? There wasn’t.  She hopped out onto his hand, did her business nicely (instead of on her sister which is what she usually does for ME), and proceeded to kiss the dickens out of him. I was surprised at myself but I must confess: This hurt my feelers.  I told her so.  I was plunged into despondency.  Interestingly enough, sensing that, BOTH birds rushed to my shoulders and played in my hair and made squeaky growly deep breathing noises.  While mollified by this, I still felt like an idiot.  But happier than before, when I felt crushed.  By a perceived rejection from a parrot.

Now, granted, I may be on psychic thin ice these days what with everything.  Still.  I pondered how some really simple, simple thing can make us feel one way or another; some simple thing to which we attach a value and react, overreact and swerve off the side of our day’s road.  Feeling either downcast or inflated.  The same thing happens with any preconception too, I think.  How someone looks, how they sound, can make us reach a quick conclusion that can be totally off base.  We don’t keep things in perspective, of which Rule One can be, I think, safely stated as: It Is Not All About You. Also, You Probably Have No Idea What This Other Being Is Thinking OR Feeling, Along with Consider The Source When Looking In Mirrors: They Are Not All The Same.

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