one little problem

And there is, Gentle Reader, always at least one.  We’re Organizing Things now, and God knows it’s a much needed endeavor.  The Partner relented, or decided he really didn’t want to build anything under the sink, and we are now the proud and happy possessors of a small kitchen garbage container.  I had no idea that Poppy, our Eldest (by a day) Parrot, would perceive it as the event horizon for a black hole.  But she did and oh boy.  The screaming.  The upset.  The flying around in a tizzy.  It wasn’t, let’s just say, good.   Poop tends to fly wildly at such times.

But.  Somehow, the light dawned, I realized that if I took the lid off the garbage can, Poppy was OK with it and although she nuzzles very, very close to my ear now, she sits on my shoulder as per usual and bosses me around while I’m making their breakfasts.  Return to normal!  Bird clinging to the back of my head and telling me to cut the grapes up smaller!

I continue to ponder, however, the historical process in which people leave their countries and places of origin, go through hell AND high water to get somewhere else, and then? Recreate exactly what they left behind.  As in, you move to a place where there are, literally, no amenities, and proceed to behave as though you are living with an inexhaustible source of power, water, space, and other people’s nerves.   No limit to anything.  Why not stay where everything was the way you wanted it, or else understand that change is, ultimately, very thorough going?  We see that quite a bit where we are.  Dirt roads that now loom like colossal chasms because of all the fast traffic (it must be a bonanza for the dentists and transmission specialists around here is all I can say), explosions at all hours, water tanks, drilling….and fewer animals.  Mr. and Mrs. Mallard did return to their small seasonal pond, which is wonderful- new ducks coming up!   But the large flocks of turkey who were here when we came seem to be either gone or deep undercover.  I miss hearing their vocalizations even though there wasn’t a very long time to get used to them.  (The first year we were here, they disappeared in late summer and the first time we saw them again was? THE DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING.  And people think turkeys aren’t smart.) The rabbits spring wildly (or elfly, as I just mistyped) out into the road from time to time, and we know the deer are here because…well.  Footprints and poop.  Like the bear and the pigs.  But it is odd to watch this human influx with no stewarding included, and wonder just what everyone is going to do when, say, the well runs dry.  I almost laugh when I hear the local Congressmen saying we need more reservoirs because of the drought.  Uh.  The reservoirs we HAVE are not full- is another empty one going to solve anything?  Except create more dams and more habitat destruction.  Jobs, right?  It’s like an insane scramble to keep doing everything the same way even when it is more than painfully obvious that that way is not sustainable or successful.  Pitting fish against people is not a sustainable strategy even though we are hearing that pitch every day here- who needs fish and clean water, after all.  We just need another dam!

ANYWAY.  We are, as I said, organizing, and the Partner found, as he emptied” his” storage shed, my last remaining box of paints.  I’ve been looking for them madly of late, and I did find my colored pencils recently which made me feel somewhat better.  This box, though.  THIS BOX.  It had all my irridescent pigments and powders in it and was truly a joy to find.  It also had an old sketchbook in it, which has emboldened me to continue on yet another project, which is illustrating…well, perhaps…. a Creation Myth.  Long ago I did a lot of little illustrated animal stories, frog orchestras, bars with giraffes and alligators drinking martinis and elegant frog torch singers to go with the orchestras, Mariachi bears, and magic lamps.  The preliminary sketches for them are in this little book I found and as is usual for me, I was deeply shocked that I could actually draw anything.  Never mind that I have a fine arts degree.  So now, reunited with my shimmering colors, this new project is where the previously mentioned space ships come in.  We have, actually, seen things here in the night sky that are so inexplicable I don’t even try.  But they’re like HUGE all you can see, bigger than anything you can imagine, things up in the sky with dense flickering colored lights, silence, a profound still beauty even though they move at quite a clip.  We saw one the night the bullfrogs at a lake we were camping by sang, for hours, a seven part song.  Really.  It was hard not to think there was a connection, and even harder to not be in just total awe.  Even if one IS crazy, such things really are spectacular and mysterious sights.  After all, we don’t know everything and we don’t see everything so why think we do and can?  Allowing the mystery is the important thing, in my mind.

Allowing the mystery may be the change that is required in this world, after all.  While it is true that, er, *I* may be Covered in The Mystery to the point where I may as well have a pair of bobbing antennae on, at the same time, it all does exist.  Perhaps we run to what may be an extreme position when we are thrust aside by the dominant paradigm.  But generally, even the schizoid people I’ve been around are not living in an unreality.  It may be mistaken or misinterpreted but it is definitely real. Even the hypocritical pastors and imams and mayors and presidents and supreme rulers (even Kim Kardashian!) are living in some piece of reality.  Time itself is present all around us, all time past and future, winding in on itself like a piece of ribbon candy.  We’re all energy, little reactors and engines plugging along, and it seems to me that our job really is to link ourselves to the overall “grid”, so to speak.  Then we’d be firing on all cylinders, in the real instead of the current enforced unreal (as in, what climate change? what money problems? what racism?).  That real, as Shakespeare said, has more to it than is dreamt of in our philosophy.  It’s just a question of opening your eyes AND your mind AND your heart all at the same time.  Really.  It can be done.   And there may be a bear in a flying saucer in it for you!  At least, there will be the grounded feeling the truth can give you.  Then, you practice the deep breathing that goes with figuring out what to do with all this Truth and Beauty.  But I have faith.  It just takes some effort.

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