It was a brisk and bright autumn day when I left my car along the side of the road and began my hike. The trail meandered next to a nearly empty creek that occasionally burbled and more often than not barely made the ground wet. The leaves were golden on the ground and the trees bare, letting more light into the small space between the hills than had been there earlier in the year. I followed the trail out to where the struggling creek made its way into a small lake and sat on a rock to look out at the distant kayakers and listen to the lapping waves.
At some point I looked up from my barely comfortable seat on the boulder to notice three large birds sitting in a nearby tree. They were larger than the usual birds one sees on a regular basis and being so close, their size was a bit offensive to one's sense of order in the world. Birds and toddlers should not be able to wear the same size shoe. And it did not help that these birds were not only very large, but also somewhat ugly. Not just ugly in a too-large-for-their-kind kind of ugly, like seeing a huge spider, but just plain ugly for any size of bird. They were Short Neck Buzzards. And they were bored.
Now Buzzards of any kind are a somewhat necessary if disturbing part of our world. The simple truth is that things are dying out there in the natural world all the time and buzzards perform the necessary act of cleaning up. I won't go into the details of what would happen should buzzards and the others of their kind suddenly took the vegetarian route, but let's just say it would not be pretty. Or smell pretty either.
Even so, it is a comforting thought to know that there are three buzzards in the world on this beautiful afternoon that have nothing to do. But even as I thought this, one of the buzzards suddenly perked up its head as if realizing something and fell forward onto it's outspread wings and up into the air.
"Where did it go?" I wondered. "What did it smell?". "What sad misfortune has befallen some poor creature?"
Before I had the chance to follow these thoughts to their end, the second short-necked buzzard spread its own wings and fell forward into flight as well. It hadn't just been a false clue then, the first buzzard really had noticed something evil afoot in the forest. My heart quickened its duties, my stomach sank in response to the thought that something very bad had happened nearby. But there was still a chance. One buzzard still sat in that dead tree and as long as that was true, maybe disaster had been avoided after all.
But it wasn't true. The buzzard was no longer there. At some point during my most recent reflections, alas!, he had left on his own grisly task. "Oh, what a shame!" I cried aloud to whomever was left alive to listen. This serene beautiful world around me had just revealed its true nature and I was horrified and frightened and desperately saddened by it. "It's not fair!" I sobbed, "It's just not fair!" And now, as I looked out over the lake, all I could see was that infernal Dead Tree. That Dead Tree that symbolized everything that had just come to pass.
But then Hope flickered. With a significant amount of whooshing, the first buzzard swooped in over my head and placed itself in its original place with an impressive amount of grace. I felt a tingle come over my skin as my clouds of grief began to thin.
And then it happened again. Another buzzard arrived and took its place next to the first. These birds had just brought me through such an emotional torment by this point I knew them each individually and had given them the names that seemed to describe their personalities. The first was Grace, the second was Hip-Hop because even now he was bobbing his head to some internal beat that I suddenly realized I could hear. It was the beat of Goodness. The rhythm of Holiness, the strum of Grace. The buzzards had returned! What had appeared as the true nature of the world suddenly could be seen for what it was: a costume, a disguise, a grimy covering hiding its true beauty.
And then my heart lept with joy to heights I had not dreamed possible before this moment because even now the third buzzard was taking its place next to the other three! My tears continued flowing, but no longer from my well of grief, rather from a fountain of bottomless joy and gratitude! I knew it could not last, this mountainous peak of Peace and Life my immediate surroundings and I found ourselves in, but for now All was Right in the world. All was Good. All was Alive.
And then I realized that the kayakers had made it to the other side of the lake and had found a place to jump off the rocks into the water. I smiled at how fun it looked, leaping safely into the air only to be caught without any other harm than the shock of the cold water. And I noticed that the barely comfortable rock I had been sitting on had at some point changed itself into a not-comfortable-at-all rock without my realizing it. So I stood, took one last look at my friends the buzzards to make sure they were still there and turned back along the leaf strewn path to my car.
2/19/11
1/4/11
Frozen Destiny
Strawberry. That was its flavor, its "kind", if you will. A scoop of ice cream feels about its ingredients the way most people think about their ethnicity. They are either passionate about whether they have real fruit or chunks of candy or if they're a purebred flavor like chocolate or vanilla--or they hardly notice it at all. This particular scoop was strawberry. With real strawberry chunks folded in. Nothing artificial, no preservatives, only real sugar. The real deal.
Proud though it was of its heritage, that didn't make it feel any better about its current state of being: Doomed. Doomed by a clumsy child, a complete lack of engineering ability in the waitress and the foolishness of the father who had ordered three scoops. It had been exciting at first, being on the top of a tower of delight, but it only lasted until they had all teetered and tottered out the door. Goodbye fellow scoops, goodbye waffle cone, goodbye Destiny. Hello, sidewalk.
It was hot too. The scoop could see itself slowly oozing away, following a crack that meandered towards the gutter. The child hadn't even bothered to mourn its loss, as there were still two more left and she was looking forward to the waffle cone at the bottom more than anything else.
Such a cliche. An ice cream scoop lying on a sidewalk, melting in the hot sun. Frosty the snowman at least had a song sung about him as he dripped away in front of his friends. The scoop's friends didn't even know what had happened. They all sat back in the freezer looking forward to their Day of Destiny. The ultimate event in the life of a scoop of ice cream. To be enjoyed. Savored. Every errant drip quickly lapped up before it was wasted.
The scoop turned its attention away from the crack. There was a large black bird eyeing it from the small fence next to the sidewalk. The bird's head moved in quick jerky movements looking first at the scoop, then up at something else. The scoop had never seen a bird before, but there are some things that need no explanation--even to a melting chunk of frozen dairy product. That bird was hungry.
The scoop turned again at a flapping noise coming from behind. Another bird had landed just out of reach, its sharp toes submerged in the thick stream of cream dribbling down the crack. Almost as soon as he had turned his attention he was brought back to the first which had landed just opposite and taken a small bite. The first bird cocked its head to one side as its beak opened and closed and its small strange tongue went up and down, tasting the strawberries, sugar and cream. Another sharp poke from the other side and the second bird stuck the same thoughtful pose. Like two fine wine tasters, the birds smacked and slurped and tried to identify the flavors swirling in their mouths.
The scoop felt a small tingle of pleasure as it watched this. The birds seemed to actually enjoy what they were experiencing. Not what he had expected or hoped for, but a little pleasure is not so bad when one is melting away in sorrow. Suddenly the birds began feeding in earnest, quickly pecking small bites and then hopping away to swallow in safety. The scoop wasn't really sure what they were wary of until it realized they were evading each other. Sure enough, after several more bites, the first bird moved in front of the second, who chose to take a bite of its tail instead of the scoop. From there it was a full on battle scene as the birds danced around each other and the scoop of strawberry ice cream, jabbing at each other, their feet and soon wings and heads pink with melted milk.
Through the flurry of feathery movement around it, the scoop began to notice the sun had been blotted out and a wall had begun to form around it. A wall of people! The very people who had up till now been avoiding the scoop of strawberry goodness as if it were a scoop of something else entirely were now focusing all of their attention on the scene around it. Fingers were pointed and smiles stretched across faces and a crowd began to form to watch the molten battle scene the scoop had become. This was not what the scoop had imagined at all when it considered its Destiny back in the freezer, but it reveled in the attention and joy focused on it and the birds.
That was when it decided to just go for it. Ice cream scoops rarely get second chances. If you fall off the cone, there's no getting back up. But fate had dealt this scoop a royal flush and he was betting all his chips. If the people wanted to see messy birds, then messy birds where just what they were going to get.
And so the scoop of ice cream, who until now and been doing everything it could to hold itself together in a dignified scoop-like shape threw caution to the wind and began to melt like no ice cream had ever melted before. In no time the two angry birds--who were having a very different kind of day--where covered in sticky gooey cream and could barely get up into the air when they realized their dinner was now gone and they were surrounded by Danger. Little drops of cream and chunks of strawberry flew everywhere as their wings beat their escape. Men laughed and women screamed as the dairy shower struck everyone with sticky deliciousness.
As the crowd broke up, the last of the scoop listened to them laughing about the various places they now needed to wash and the funny looks on their faces in the pictures they had taken at just the right moments. The scoop was very small now, but what it lacked in size and general "scoopiness", it had ten-fold in joy. Surely no ice cream scoop had brought such happiness to so many people.
And with a final sigh and the ice cream equivalent of tears in its eyes, the scoop of all natural strawberry ice cream welcomed the heat of the sidewalk and sank once and for all into the crack.
Proud though it was of its heritage, that didn't make it feel any better about its current state of being: Doomed. Doomed by a clumsy child, a complete lack of engineering ability in the waitress and the foolishness of the father who had ordered three scoops. It had been exciting at first, being on the top of a tower of delight, but it only lasted until they had all teetered and tottered out the door. Goodbye fellow scoops, goodbye waffle cone, goodbye Destiny. Hello, sidewalk.
It was hot too. The scoop could see itself slowly oozing away, following a crack that meandered towards the gutter. The child hadn't even bothered to mourn its loss, as there were still two more left and she was looking forward to the waffle cone at the bottom more than anything else.
Such a cliche. An ice cream scoop lying on a sidewalk, melting in the hot sun. Frosty the snowman at least had a song sung about him as he dripped away in front of his friends. The scoop's friends didn't even know what had happened. They all sat back in the freezer looking forward to their Day of Destiny. The ultimate event in the life of a scoop of ice cream. To be enjoyed. Savored. Every errant drip quickly lapped up before it was wasted.
The scoop turned its attention away from the crack. There was a large black bird eyeing it from the small fence next to the sidewalk. The bird's head moved in quick jerky movements looking first at the scoop, then up at something else. The scoop had never seen a bird before, but there are some things that need no explanation--even to a melting chunk of frozen dairy product. That bird was hungry.
The scoop turned again at a flapping noise coming from behind. Another bird had landed just out of reach, its sharp toes submerged in the thick stream of cream dribbling down the crack. Almost as soon as he had turned his attention he was brought back to the first which had landed just opposite and taken a small bite. The first bird cocked its head to one side as its beak opened and closed and its small strange tongue went up and down, tasting the strawberries, sugar and cream. Another sharp poke from the other side and the second bird stuck the same thoughtful pose. Like two fine wine tasters, the birds smacked and slurped and tried to identify the flavors swirling in their mouths.
The scoop felt a small tingle of pleasure as it watched this. The birds seemed to actually enjoy what they were experiencing. Not what he had expected or hoped for, but a little pleasure is not so bad when one is melting away in sorrow. Suddenly the birds began feeding in earnest, quickly pecking small bites and then hopping away to swallow in safety. The scoop wasn't really sure what they were wary of until it realized they were evading each other. Sure enough, after several more bites, the first bird moved in front of the second, who chose to take a bite of its tail instead of the scoop. From there it was a full on battle scene as the birds danced around each other and the scoop of strawberry ice cream, jabbing at each other, their feet and soon wings and heads pink with melted milk.
Through the flurry of feathery movement around it, the scoop began to notice the sun had been blotted out and a wall had begun to form around it. A wall of people! The very people who had up till now been avoiding the scoop of strawberry goodness as if it were a scoop of something else entirely were now focusing all of their attention on the scene around it. Fingers were pointed and smiles stretched across faces and a crowd began to form to watch the molten battle scene the scoop had become. This was not what the scoop had imagined at all when it considered its Destiny back in the freezer, but it reveled in the attention and joy focused on it and the birds.
That was when it decided to just go for it. Ice cream scoops rarely get second chances. If you fall off the cone, there's no getting back up. But fate had dealt this scoop a royal flush and he was betting all his chips. If the people wanted to see messy birds, then messy birds where just what they were going to get.
And so the scoop of ice cream, who until now and been doing everything it could to hold itself together in a dignified scoop-like shape threw caution to the wind and began to melt like no ice cream had ever melted before. In no time the two angry birds--who were having a very different kind of day--where covered in sticky gooey cream and could barely get up into the air when they realized their dinner was now gone and they were surrounded by Danger. Little drops of cream and chunks of strawberry flew everywhere as their wings beat their escape. Men laughed and women screamed as the dairy shower struck everyone with sticky deliciousness.
As the crowd broke up, the last of the scoop listened to them laughing about the various places they now needed to wash and the funny looks on their faces in the pictures they had taken at just the right moments. The scoop was very small now, but what it lacked in size and general "scoopiness", it had ten-fold in joy. Surely no ice cream scoop had brought such happiness to so many people.
And with a final sigh and the ice cream equivalent of tears in its eyes, the scoop of all natural strawberry ice cream welcomed the heat of the sidewalk and sank once and for all into the crack.
9/15/10
My Happy Place
I dreamed again last night. I dream fairly often, but I only occasionally remember them in detail enough to share. A few of my dreams have been told and retold even by others since my college days. The one about the giant squirrel and the other about the Devil's Nachos are my favorites.
But I digress. This dream was one of the recurring ones. I've had a recurring theme all my life where I discover a room/apartment/cave where there wasn't one before and finding it is so...cool. The feeling I have as I walk into that space is adventure and mystery and excitement--even if all I find there is some crazy Hawaiian shirts (which in that particular dream world were actually Mexican shirts). Some of these rooms are attached to specific places. There is a secret room in the attic of Mr Morley's house in the town where I grew up. The entrance is behind the pool table--when its there at all--and its full of candlelit beds with frilly canopies. There is also a secret cave branching off the entrance to Subway Caverns near Redding, CA. That dream was so real that I mentioned it to some friends who were in the dream as if it had actually happened. It took another visit before I was fully convinced it wasn't real.
This one was an apartment. It isn't attached anywhere, but its at the top or at the back of a large apartment building. In the last dream I was contemplating moving to that apartment, but even in my dream I'd wonder if I'd be able to find it again after I left. This time I was looking for our missing pillow. We lost a pillow somewhere in the 1/4 mile move into our new house. I never found it, but my wife was there--an unusual occurrence in itself--as well as a very billowy set of the aforementioned Hawaiian shirts that were actually Mexican shirts.
What do these dreams mean? A quick search of online "dream dictionaries" tells me I'm discovering or exploring a new aspect of my personality. I'm not really sure what that means exactly, having the personality that I do, but it sounds cool. Trouble is, I can't really think of any new aspects of my personality that I hadn't known about already.
The other option to the room theme focused on my feelings about the room. Feelings of excitement when entering the room are supposed to represent satisfaction about life. This one seems a little more relevant, as I am supremely satisfied with my life these days. I have a great job with a great boss and coworkers, my newly decorated little house looks awesome, I am actually planting a garden with brick planters and everything, I love my new town, my wife is even more beautiful, exciting, patient, kind, loving, intelligent, radiant, talented and amazing to me then she was when we got married.
So I guess that's what the dream means. I'm happy with life. I've found that passageway that leads to joy that isn't always there and may not be again. Its a feeling that's so real and vivid, but hard to explain and even the memory of it flees too quickly leaving behind only odd floral shirts and frilly beds. But I talk about it and write about it in the hopes that those details will remain. That when the wall behind the pool table no longer opens to a staircase we together will be able to remember what it was like when it did.
I'm still looking for that pillow though.
But I digress. This dream was one of the recurring ones. I've had a recurring theme all my life where I discover a room/apartment/cave where there wasn't one before and finding it is so...cool. The feeling I have as I walk into that space is adventure and mystery and excitement--even if all I find there is some crazy Hawaiian shirts (which in that particular dream world were actually Mexican shirts). Some of these rooms are attached to specific places. There is a secret room in the attic of Mr Morley's house in the town where I grew up. The entrance is behind the pool table--when its there at all--and its full of candlelit beds with frilly canopies. There is also a secret cave branching off the entrance to Subway Caverns near Redding, CA. That dream was so real that I mentioned it to some friends who were in the dream as if it had actually happened. It took another visit before I was fully convinced it wasn't real.
This one was an apartment. It isn't attached anywhere, but its at the top or at the back of a large apartment building. In the last dream I was contemplating moving to that apartment, but even in my dream I'd wonder if I'd be able to find it again after I left. This time I was looking for our missing pillow. We lost a pillow somewhere in the 1/4 mile move into our new house. I never found it, but my wife was there--an unusual occurrence in itself--as well as a very billowy set of the aforementioned Hawaiian shirts that were actually Mexican shirts.
What do these dreams mean? A quick search of online "dream dictionaries" tells me I'm discovering or exploring a new aspect of my personality. I'm not really sure what that means exactly, having the personality that I do, but it sounds cool. Trouble is, I can't really think of any new aspects of my personality that I hadn't known about already.
The other option to the room theme focused on my feelings about the room. Feelings of excitement when entering the room are supposed to represent satisfaction about life. This one seems a little more relevant, as I am supremely satisfied with my life these days. I have a great job with a great boss and coworkers, my newly decorated little house looks awesome, I am actually planting a garden with brick planters and everything, I love my new town, my wife is even more beautiful, exciting, patient, kind, loving, intelligent, radiant, talented and amazing to me then she was when we got married.
So I guess that's what the dream means. I'm happy with life. I've found that passageway that leads to joy that isn't always there and may not be again. Its a feeling that's so real and vivid, but hard to explain and even the memory of it flees too quickly leaving behind only odd floral shirts and frilly beds. But I talk about it and write about it in the hopes that those details will remain. That when the wall behind the pool table no longer opens to a staircase we together will be able to remember what it was like when it did.
I'm still looking for that pillow though.
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