The insects are coming, the insects are coming

Why do moths fly toward light and caterpillars stretch toward darkness? Is it that when we mature we tend to look toward the presence of something rather than its absence? And what happens in between, when the caterpillar decides that it is time to break free of its confines? My claustrophobic caterpillar has been getting antsy off and on for a while. There are many more days that I do look at the light side of life, compared with just a year, or a month, or even a day ago. It seems that the more I start eating my way out of my cocoon and self imposed isolation, the more comfortable I feel in the light of day. For now though my kitten is bounding through the house, climbing the window frames, and falling on bookshelves chasing the many moths assembled outside of my window, trying to get to the light of the lamps, and away from the black of a cloudy summer evening. Instead of marveling at his zest for life and full attention to the present moment I have chosen to grumble at the books that have now fallen back onto the floor. I guess I need to go back to my chrysalis and wait for maturity, or just watch my fearless hunters catch the big game.

Outrageous Serenity

I think that our culture primes us to default at unhappy/miserable/depressed/screwed up. Without continued unhappiness our economy might possibly tank. Who would buy Prozac or sports cars or zillions of dollars worth of weight loss/anti aging potions? If our default was serenity and happiness, why would we need to shop? Besides the obvious, because it's fun. Lately I have been noticing that people get uncomfortable when things are really good. I know I get that way. We say, "I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop," or "It looks like it will rain again today," or "What a Pollyanna." These are ways that we sit in the ooziness of depression. It is then OK to fill up on Ben and Jerry or draw attention to ourselves by relating our latest woes. Happy people who have great lives just don't have people saying to them, "What can I do to make your life easier?" Happy people are shunned. There is nothing wrong with them, they are not partaking in the economy, and they do not need our love and attention. At this very moment my life is fabulous. I am at my laptop writing, which I love to do, my cats are strategically placed around me, my plants are still alive, and yes, I have an entire pint of Ben and Jerry's in the freezer (Haagen Daaz will suffice.) If I were to call up people right now and say, "Hello, I am feeling fantastic," they might think I have gone insane. Well I am fantastic today, and I am on my way to outrageous serenity. I still need a new pair of shoes, but not because my life lacks for anything, but because they are shoes. Come on.

Running Sutra, 168 beats per minute

I downloaded some new music onto my iPod this morning before my run, and noticed that there was a change in my motivation. I made it up the hills just a little bit faster and had a little more spunk as I traversed the AT. This morning's Running Sutra was that music has such a profound impact on my life. My mile time definitely decreased today, even after a sleepy, groggy, start to the day. Maybe some of it was the endorphin level I was experiencing, endorphins that were almost as tasty as the brownie I ate before hand. Tia DeNora conducted a study that was published in 1999 on the effects of music on individuals as well as how we use music to alter our moods. This past Saturday evening I attended a Bebe Newerth concert at The Mahaiwe. The songs that she sang were all in story format. I perked up and listened to the words as well as the music used to portray emotions that went along with the action. At one point she slipped into a rendition of the Beatles, "Blackbird," a song that for some reason grabs my heartstrings and yanks. I always tear up when the song is played. A version of "Garden of Love," sung by a choir has me sobbing on the floor, quite an embarrassment to those that attempt to take me out into public. Now I just need that magical music that will help me memorise DNA replication for my quiz tonight. Maybe, "Duplicate" by White Town?

Mystic Biology 102

This morning I was contemplating the difference between isolation and solitude. Last night's biology class helped to shed some light on the former. We were studying cancer cells and their life cycle. One rogue cell would plant itself down for a nice rest and decide to multiply. At first the cells stay in one place, just hanging out. There comes a time though when they start sneaking into different hangout spots, spreading throughout the body. Isolation, for me, acts similarly. I have one thought, usually made from my pity pot (still covered in jewels) that just hangs out for a bit. But left alone it decides to seep throughout my body, sneaking into my thoughts until I believe that no one likes me, everybody hates me and why don't I have any friends. Isolation is sneaky, it moves quietly until it takes over. Isolation keeps me from the truth. Solitude brings me closer to it. There is a difference. Solitude brings me closer to conscious contact with God. Isolation cuts off contact and cuts away the healthy parts of my mind. Solitude allows for silence, for peace, and for conversation with Spirit. I feel the difference today as I sit in my yard, the blue heron has just flown overhead. The only sounds I hear are the brook trickling in the back, the mosquito flying past, the rustle of the oak leaves as a breeze comes. In solitude God is in the sounds, the trees, the grass and even the mosquito. Today I choose solitude instead of isolation. I may not choose the biology class over Milton, but the sun is shining, the clouds are puffy and the grass is tickling my feet.

Here comes, oops, goes the Sun

Living in New England I have grown accustomed to frequent weather "issues." Snow, ice, wind and rain are all just what we deal with in the Berkshires. I will take those over earthquakes and tornadoes any day. At the beginning of June I came up with a brilliant goal. I would try to be completely positive about one thing, and it happened to be the weather. The topic of weather always comes up when speaking with strangers, in line at the grocery store, the guy pumping gas next to you at the gas station, and the telemarketer looking to butter you up. "Looks like rain." "Can you stand this heat?" "I heard six inches." My goal preceded a June that saw almost no sun. For eighty percent of the month, drops fell from the sky or threatened to. I have a picture on my cell phone of a patch of white (hail/snow) set against a background of lush green grass, taken in mid June. I do not remember any month as rainy in my home region. Attitudes were declining, and we are a hearty bunch of people. What's a foot of snow? Not enough to keep us home. But by the end of June my goal was not met. I had abandoned it. I was at the point where positivity could just go back to its hole. There is a light at the end of the tunnel however, or at least a partly sunny light. I have seen the sun over the last few days. Today I am not taking it for granted, because it could soon disappear. Like a flower I open up and soak in every minute of sunlight that makes its way through the cloud cover. Every moment is precious. I have watched people become giddy when they see its rays for 30 seconds. Maybe we have learned to appreciate it more after these days of dark. I haven't heard anyone complain about the heat or humidity, I have seen them express gratitude for every moment of sunlight given. I have learned that sometimes the goals that I make that seem to be the easiest are sometimes the most difficult to achieve. Nothing is guaranteed. Maybe this month I have learned a bit of humility as well. No, I cannot do absolutely everything I set my mind to the first time I attempt, but just as the sun peaks out from behind the storm clouds for moments at a time, I can be grateful for all of the goals I have reached, and keep trying to reach the ones I have not. It is now July, today's forecast is partly sunny, with a chance of thunderstorms. I am heading outside now to open my face to the sun, to soak in its beautiful rays, because two minutes from now it could be gone.

Chocolate covered fear

Most of the time I am able to skip dessert, well some of the time maybe. Sometimes I just cannot resist that something sweet at the end of the meal. I have already nourished my body, but need that sweet shot to add a little zing to the meal. But what ends up happening, is the sugar rushes into my blood, and my body becomes overwhelmed, unable to process the energy it did not need to begin with. I end up exhausted after the initial rush. They say that life is like a bowl full of cherries. Well I like mine chocolate covered. For the most part, my life is that bowl of cherries, sweet, ripe and juicy. I am on a fabulous journey, filled with sweet friends and just a hint of juicy drama. But every so often I overindulge. I gorge myself on fear. Most mornings I wake up and give thanks for all of the cool presents I receive. Today, however, I was paralyzed by the fear that I will not make it, and that God, who has not dropped me yet, will somehow trip over a pebble and drop me flat on my face. Everything I had planned for the day did not materialise, and what did was a ticket for not having my registration in the car. I forgot to send in the check, oops. Financial insecurity gripped me and started to squeeze, the abundance that surrounds me started to dull. Right now I am acknowledging that fear as an unnecessary sugar rush. It gives me energy, yet leaves me depleted at the end of the day. The calories are empty, it does nothing to nourish my body or spirit. It adds unnecessary drama to the day, a day that was perfect if I look back on it without a self induced sugar coma. My ticket would have been much higher had the officer actually been able to access the Internet from his car. If my morning appointment hadn't been cancelled, I would still be driving around in an unregistered car, oblivious. If it hadn't stormed this evening, I wouldn't have been able to sit and write. Everything is in perfect order. I just need to remember today that no matter what my mind says to me, I do not have to overindulge in fear today. Take one bite, savor it for a few minutes and give the rest of it to God. She can handle the sugar buzz.

F.e.a.r.

I have heard many friends say that fear stands for either; fuck everything and run, or face everything and recover. For some reason I was pondering the word fear on my run today. My route takes me down a highway and eventually I veer off to a portion of the Appalachian Trail. For some strange reason I can run on the road, no problem, even when you can see the driver applying makeup or changing the radio station and coming just a tad too close for comfort. But when I head down the trail, immediately thoughts of saber toothed tigers and grizzly bears invade the serenity of the woods. Each twig snapping is not a squirrel, but a rabid fox, that will take me down with its bloodied fangs. I miss the lush green that shifts to wetlands within a quarter mile, because my brain is on overdrive. I pant to the top of the hill to the road and semi trucks that somehow seem safer than the dark of the forest. I wanted to create a new acronym for fear, and the only positive one that I came up with was, Find Every Abundance Radiantly. Now I do not know if that makes any sense to you, but it does for me. I was in a most beautiful part of the trail, the path was soft with pine needles, I crossed over a brook filled with cattails, and ran through moss covered rocks and ivy. I did not see the abundance that surrounded me, on all sides. I chose to feel fear, fear of mauling by extinct species at that. Today, for the rest of the day I choose to find each and every abundance radiantly. If not radiant then what?