Tuesday, November 19, 2013
I was drifting off last night while listening to late night talk radio...as I often do...and the voices were explaining how reincarnation works. I've always searched for what the hell all this means and seem even more interested as I grow older. Like getting hungrier the closer you get to the buffet. The host was taking calls from listeners, often with comments on their own imagined end and final destination...or nothingness. A woman called and said, "I can't imagine a God that's good...with all we see here. If reincarnation is true...I don't want to come back. I'm too tired of all this." The host and guest went blank and began mumbling about their own beliefs. And they quickly took another call. That woman reached through my radio and squeezed my heart like a rubber stress ball till it hurt. I don't want to leave this place yet. But I'm not sure - either - if I want to come back.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
I like the word squirrelly. It is very descriptive of a feeling we all feel, sometimes, and a way to describe actions we observe and those actors acting that way. According to my dear friend Merriam-Webster, it's an adjective defined as: 1. -tending to move around a lot, and 2. -very odd, silly, or foolish. (Been there...done that.) I frequently watch squirrels...more than most people. For years my wife and I would see a squirrel out our second floor living room window, often twice daily, doing a high wire act across the street. He (we called him a he but I would always add "or she") would walk the wire down to a main street and cross that street from 30 feet up. Whenever we saw him one of us would yell, "SQUIRREL!" to announce the crossing. And we knew he would return sometime soon with bounty in his mouth, still perilously perched above asphalt and humanity. Then, about 4 months ago, we realized no one had yelled "SQUIRREL!" for some time...we tried to watch for him...concerned about him (or her). After weeks of watching...we understood...he (or she) became a fond memory.... Then...a few months later my wife yelled "SQUIRREL!" and we saw a smaller version of our squirrelly friend doing the same high wire act. He (or she) was the rich brown color of sugar meant for baked beans. He (or she) would take the same route to and across our main street...and would return with his bounty. That was this last Spring...the time of renewal. Done.