A Visit to the Zoo

Today was an interesting experience in opposites.

The park appears to be a wonderful sanctuary.

The animals are well cared for.

They are loved and are the picture of beauty and health.

Yet there is something amiss.

A sense of longing, and maybe a hint of sadness.

They are God’s creatures, meant to be wild and free.

Yet they eat, sleep and play, and do what mammals will do.

They are ambassadors to us.  They share their world with us in the hopes

that one of us will be touched, affected and perhaps changed so that their

brethren in the wilds can remain what they are not, free.

A picture of opposites, free versus captive.  One sacrifices for the other,

when will we change so such generosity of these beautiful creatures is

no longer needed.

Arctic Blast

Arctic Blast

Stanley always shopped for his fruit and vegetables at the town’s weekly Farmer’s Market.  He believed he was doing good by supporting the local farmers and was reducing his carbon footprint by not driving to the mega-stores.  Stanley had not always been so environmentally friendly.  He used to drive his gas guzzling SUV everywhere.  Stanley assumed, like everyone else, that everything was replaceable, disposable and in endless supply.  That was until the day he had met her, Josephine, she of the arctic blast.  Even thinking her name caused a chill to overcome him, and he had just seen her striding purposely towards him.  He froze in place as she reached him and said, “Stanley, there is something I want to say to you...”

He was the pastor at a new church that was rising in popularity.  His church was different from others because not only did he spread the word of God, but also instilled a love and respect for the Earth.  His message was to find a way to balance the needs of humankind and of Mother Nature.  His unique message and the rising environmental awareness helped to fill the church’s coffers, and Stanley was able to support local initiatives with local farmers, and educate people about energy efficiency and recycling.  Stanley’s new found environmental respect was due to the woman standing before him holding him frozen under her gaze.

Stanley recalled how he met Josephine during his gas guzzling days.  She was a beautiful woman, with light blonde hair and arresting glacier blue eyes.  Their romance was brief and intense.  He fell for her immediately, and believed that she was the one he wanted to marry.  Josephine returned his affection lightly, but there was an aloofness about her that he couldn’t reach; apart of her was out of bounds, walled off behind an ice fortress.

As time passed, Stanley tried to get closer to Josephine, but she pushed him away.  He couldn’t understand her distance and distrust, and instead of backing away he continued to pursue her.  If he had known the truth, Stanley might have turned tail and run away, but he was in love dammit.  He vowed that he would break through Josephine’s icy walls.

                

Stanley would never forget the day that Josephine turned him to ice.  They had been arguing, again, about her emotional distance and refusal to trust him.  She said Stanley had no idea of the hell that she had been through.  Stanley argued by saying that he loved her, and accepted her for the person she was.  He only wanted her to trust him and have a life with him.  His love did nothing to melt Josephine’s icy distance.  Josephine told him that her heart had been broken too many times, and any warmth she had melted away long ago.   The more Stanley pursued her the more her bitterness emerged. 

In a fit of rage so intense, Josephine told him that she was in fact an avatar of Mother Nature, and was older than time itself.  She walked amongst humankind in the hopes of raising awareness and respect for the earth.  At first Josephine had felt their love and respect; there was a tenderness and appreciation for the bounty that Mother Nature provided, and a love for the land, the animals, and an awareness of the balance inherent in all things.  Yet time passed and as humans learned to bend the Earth’s gifts to their will, their greed and ambition grew.  Josephine watched in horror as the forests and land were destroyed, animal disappeared forever; and the earth’s resources were stripped away, never to be replaced.  Josephine felt mankind’s abuse of nature so deeply that she became bitter and angry.  Her once warm, deep brown eyes turned to glacier blue as the coldness enveloped her.  Josephine fed her anger, and it was she who was responsible for the polar vortex that had caused the frigid blasts to shriek across the land.  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned; and maybe a blast of arctic air would remind humans to respect nature; for she that giveth can taketh away.

Stanley was awed by her story.  He believed that his love for Josephine could help her regain hope in mankind once more.  Yet, after years of coldness, Josephine remained untouched.  In an act of self-preservation, Josephine turned Stanley to ice so she could disappear once more.

It took a month for warmth to return to Stanley.  He emerged unhurt, but forever changed.  He saw for the first time his true calling.  Josephine, as the avatar of Mother Nature, had reminded him of the blessings that she provided, and he loved her deeply for those gifts.  Stanley channeled his belief and love into forming his church, and his movement began. 

Josephine said “.. thank you for your love Stanley.  You have helped me to have hope once more.”  Stanley looked straight into her eyes and saw flecks of glacier blue and warm brown glistening in her irises.  “Your welcome,” he replied.  “If it wasn't for you, none of this would be possible.  We must be more respectful of that.”  Josephine smiled as she walked away, and a warm feeling of love engulfed him.  

Picture a glass on a table; on the table there is a glass filled with water, but only about halfway to the top.  As you see the glass what strikes you about it?  If you’re an optimist you would view the glass as being half full, while if you’re a pessimist you would see it has being half empty.  We all are familiar with this adage of conveying whether we view a situation, or life, as either being positive or negative.  I’m of the later variety; although I like to add my own twist to my life view.  I like to think that I’m a reformed optimist, who became a pessimist and ultimately became a realist.

Frankly, I have always feared the eternal optimists.  I cannot understand how they maintain such a positive outlook no matter the dire situation they may be in.  Their house could have been burned to the ground in a fire, their earthly possessions blown to the four corners of the earth, and yet they maintain such a positive outlook and belief, and yes faith that everything will work out; that everything happens for a reason and they are protected and guided by the higher power.  I respect these individual so highly that I feel unworthy to even stand near them, as if my pessimism and negativity will somehow alter them.

Then again I am not special as we have all lived rich and varied lives; we have all had our shares of upsets, tragedies and hurt.  We have had experienced events that have shaped us, affected us and helped us to become the people that we are.  Yet, it is how we view those events that will dictate how we allow them to affect us.  If we are the optimist we see it as a blessing in disguise, a way to help us on the path of where we need to be, we will find the silver lining in the gray clouds whirling around us; and if we are the pessimist then all we see is gray dreariness, the bleakness of the situation and no way out of the situation but through our own perseveres.  We pessimists feel as if life is out to get us, while the optimists view life as an adventure and call the events that happen a mere plot twist in their lives.  

As I said, I wasn’t always like this.  When I was a little girl I believed in the good of all man, I still do although my view has become tarnished over the years.  I believed that all things were good in the world, that no matter how messed up my life got, and it got plenty messy, that it would work out and I would land on my feet.  I had faith in a higher power, a belief, much like the optimists, that I would be guided out of the turmoil and into greener and safer pastures.  I viewed that glass sitting on the table as being half full.  I was an optimist until I reached my early 20s.

I can say in looking back over my life that I have lived through things that often only happen once in a person’s life.  I have been through hell and back so many times that I am quite familiar with the scenery.  First let me begin by saying that I am not special or any different from any of my fellow humans.  The events that occurred in my life and how they affected me are by my own choices.  I lay no blame and have no regrets.  Yet I am also of the mind that each person’s issues and problems are unique to them and cannot be compared or contrasted to each other.  This isn’t a question of my problems are bigger than yours, yet they are uniquely my experiences and are therefore a big deal to me.

Life has been knocked down more times that I can count, but each time I have gotten up and went on, but I immediately view the negative side of the situation that is facing me.  The end of a relationship well he was an asshole, he deserves it, or I deserve better.  Watching my father and mother battle through his myriad health issues; my dad doesn’t deserve it, something bad is going to happen, always negative, always planning for the worst and maybe hoping for the best if I still had the strength.  Having my heart broken and mistreated, I deserved it, I was never going to find Mr. Right, I was destined to be alone.  Yep, you get the idea, no matter the situation, either a minor bump or a major, life altering event, reacting pessimistically was my default setting.  No matter what bump in the road occurred, my world was ending and much like Chicken Little the sky was falling.

I staggered my way through life ever the consummate pessimist, happy to sit in my muck crying oh woe is me.  In my defense, whenever adversity arose in my life, I would fight my way through it, much like a heavy weight championship title fight.  I would lurk in my corner and come out jabbing, and usually I would win the bout beaten and bloodied, but the clear winner.  I had beaten life at its own game, but oh what a struggle it was.

So I traveled the pessimism road for the majority of my life, and my often companion was bitterness who started to show up later on as I let my negativity eat at me.  As the years passed, I began to watch the optimists around me.  I saw them happy and smiling, and going about life in what appeared to be a carefree manner.  I smirked and thought to myself, boy now there goes a bunch have happy people who have no clue what is about to hit them.  I thought I was in on the true reality of life; that life was hard, mean and trouble was always just around the corner.

My mindset came from years of strife that I had experienced.  Mind you most of it was my own doing; but I didn’t necessarily thing that.  I just thought that some higher power was out to get me come hell or high water, plus I walked around with a chip on my shoulder that was the size of Texas.  I wasn’t a nice person, nor did I really desire to change my ways.

As I continued my meager existence I began to watch the optimists and a small part of me was envious of them.  They seemed to be on a big secret, even deeper than the one that I had thought I had discovered.  They faced strife, sometimes a hell of sight worse than anything I had ever faced, yet they approached it openly, without fear and believed there was a purpose to their turmoil.  As I watched them I began to try to figure out what I thought their secret was: faith and a positive outlook on life, you know the whole glass half full thing.

As time passed and I began to reflect on the error of my ways, I discovered a shocking secret ever darker than the harsh reality of life; I was allowing my pessimism, bitterness and anger to eat me alive.  No wonder I felt half-human, no wonder I felt like an outsider; my negativity was burrowing deeper and deeper into me and coloring my perspective on life with drab colors of gray and black, very little vivid colors were present.

After must self-reflection and a lot of trial and error of trying to adjust my outlook, I shift from an blanket pessimist to a realist, borderline optimist.  I have seen too many real things in my life that are mean and hard and therefore I can’t necessarily become an eternal optimist and have utter faith in the higher purpose.  Don’t get me wrong I believe in God, and I acknowledge that there are forces around me that I will not be able to understand, but I have just seen the underbelly of life a little too often to forsake my former ways like a repent sinner. 

Yet I know there is a higher, a noble purpose to life; a spark of humility and compassion that is seen amongst the people around me.  I have accepted that part of optimism into my life, and welcome it.  I no longer feel on the outskirts of living my life and allowing things to happen, now I try to make things happen and live my life to the best of my ability each and every day.  So now when something bad happens, and it will, my initial reaction is a pessimistic one, hey its part my nature, but now instead of crying that the world as I know it is over, I pause and take a deep breath.  My second reaction is to have faith that there is a purpose here and it will work out, and my third reaction is to be realistic about the situation and plan for the worst, yet always hoping and believing that the best will come.

It doesn’t hurt that my other half is the eternal optimist who gives me the kick in the butt I need to stay on my new track.  I sometimes cannot comprehend how he always stays so positive about the situation, no matter how dire it may be.  He truly believes with all of his being that everything always works out for the best.  He amazes me.

The one lesson that I have taken from the good old adage about the glass, is that how you view life and its ups and downs is really all about perspective.  

Petulance

Petulance

There is a petulant child who resides in my head, and that child is me.  No matter what I do to try to coax her into action, either with soft words, treats, begging pleas, or yelling; she sits there tautly, arms crossed shaking her head, and saying “No” repeatedly.  I am just about at my wits end with this child, which is me.  What do you want for dinner, I think.  No idea, I respond.  I can’t seem to make up my mind on something as simple as that.  Never mind more major decisions like what to take out of the closet to wear to work.  I’m literally numb and frozen in my inability to make a decision, and frankly I hate it.  That petulant child is what I picture in my mind’s eye as being the cause of this internal melodrama.  She is the source of my inability to think and act clearly and decisively.  The only problem is why is she here?  I cannot think of any cause that would justify her presence.  My life is happy, my family is well, and I am humbly grateful for all that the good Lord as seen fit to send my way, so then why this internal strife and suffering?  Why do I castigate myself for every misstep, every wrong thought, and allow my worries about nonsensical things consume me so?  Why has this little child decided to come into my mind and plant her plump little bottom in the middle of the clutter that is my brain? 

I enjoy writing, I enjoy playing games, and I enjoy reading.  Writing especially brings me a sense of peace and repose.  It provides an outlet for the endless chatter that echoes through the halls of my mind.  It  helps to ease my anxiety and worry in a way that is better than any medicine a doctor may prescribe.  Yet when I begin to pressure myself to write more, to take a more definite action in pursuing it, I freeze and that petulant child who was happily playing in the corner raises her brilliant blue eyes and I can see the tension rising in her as she stares at me.  Out she marches, saying “No” repeatedly and sulks as I try to prod her out of the way.  The more I try to force her to move the more she resists; she is a stubborn girl I’ll give her that.  But then again, she is me! 

This ongoing back and forth between my adult self and my child self is driving me crazy and this inner turmoil spills over the dams and floods into the other unrelated areas of my life.  I begin to think that I am missing out on something; there is more that I can offer both to myself and those around me; I begin to doubt myself, my purpose, and what it all really means!.  Everything is colored in gray and dulled as I try to reason with this child, myself. 

I have much to be thankful for, a loving boyfriend who is my partner and better half; a mother who is my best friend and guiding light in life; a job that brings me immense satisfaction and that I enjoy doing.  I am grateful for these things in my life, and humbled that I have been so blessed; yet it still feels like there is something more that I can be doing, should be doing, and therein lies my melodrama, and that petulant child, that road block, who is certainly not giving me any answers when I peg her with questions of why she is her and just what the hell she wants, but then again there sometimes can be no reasoning with a child, who is me, when they are in the middle of a tantrum.  So where does that leave me?

Surroundings

Surroundings

I typically run through my day at top speed, not paying attention to my surroundings unless something odd catches my eye or I crash into it.  However, lately I have tried to slow down and start looking at the world around me.  In doing so I have been seeing things that are memorable and make me smile.  Today was the first morning when I started paying attention to my surrounds on my way to work and I saw some pretty amazing things.

                As I was pulling out of my garage this morning I saw an elderly golden retriever strolling down the street unattended by a human.  I paused to make sure that he made it safely across the street.  I didn’t approach him because I knew that he was only one door down from his house and was simply out exploring his territory, yet seeing him idly moving along without a care in the world made me wonder what would the world be like if the world was ruled by dogs.  I had the idea that it would be much calmer, more playful, and prone to long bouts of self-attention, if you catch my meaning. 

As I continued down my street I saw two more dogs standing on the sidewalk appearing as if they were in deep conversation about the weather or the growth in their garden.  I smiled yet again because maybe this was proof that I had in fact woken up in an alternate dog-ruled universe.  Then as I looked in my rear view mirror I saw the human standing close by the dogs and man’s dominance in the world was reaffirmed.

                Then as I turned off my street onto the main thoroughfare in Safety Harbor I saw a troop of Ibises rooting in the grass for their morning meal.  The rising sunlight glimmered off of their white wings and gave them a softly glowing brightness.  They looked like small aliens that had landed and were taking soil samples.  They marched in in perfect precision as they scoured every inch of he the ground for their breakfast. 

As I traveled away from the congregation of ibises I saw a lone egret standing perfectly still with one leg raised and moving its head back and forth as it was zeroing in on its target.  Egrets are very beautiful and statuesque.  I can’t help but grin when I see them because they seem like they would be so clumsy with their long legs, giraffe like neck and large wings, but they surprise you when they strike their prey with absolute precision, and then gracefully they take off in flight with their wings outstretched and long legs flowing behind them.

                As I proceeded onto the Courtney Campbell Causeway which is a bridge across the Tampa Bay, I looked around me and saw how dead calm the water was.  It’s unnerving to be driving on a small stretch of pavement at high speeds while surrounded by deep water.  Unsettling as it may be, but it can also calming.  On my daily commutes across the bridge I have witnessed dolphins swimming in the shallows and water birds galore flying overhead.  Unfortunately I wasn’t privy to any animal sightings this morning, but I did see a young couple embracing on the beach.  They stood closely together with lips touching as they watched yet another Florida sunrise.  I couldn’t help but be reminded of how pure love can truly be. 

                As I was exiting the bridge I saw perhaps that strangest sight of my morning trip.  I saw a small red balloon playing in traffic on the Courtney Campbell Causeway.  There was no obvious explanation as to how it could have gotten there, but there it was softly bouncing off fenders and hoods as traffic flew by at 50 miles an hour.  The cynic in me is sure that the balloon eventually got stuck under a tire and punctured, but I do hope that the little red balloon will still be bouncing away in traffic as I drive home tonight.

                The rest of my journey to the office was uneventful.  Yet as I pulled into my parking spaces those images still stuck in my memory and I smiled.  My day began to seem a little brighter and there is a bounce in my step.  I can see how paying attention to my surroundings can pay off; instead of being wrapped up in myself these small images in my surrounding help me to appreciate the life that is thriving around me.  

Life is full of beautiful things, however I think our perspective on what is beautiful has become slightly skewed.  Instead of seeing the beauty within, we search for the beauty without.  We are worried about our waistlines, crows feet, wrinkles, and wardrobes.  We search for beautiful pieces of art or furniture to decorate our homes.  We try to surround ourselves with things that we think of as beautiful, which will somehow elevate our status in life, or oddly enough, our feelings of self-worth.  This, to me, is the wrong type of beauty to look for.  Beauty is not a material object, nor is it something that can be obtained, or how much you put yourself into debt for trying to improve your outer beauty.

To me, beauty is in each and every one of us.  We have souls, wisdom, compassion and empathy.  Those are beautiful.  The sound of laughter coming from smiling lips is beautiful.  Witnessing a loving glance between a couple is beautiful.  Seeing a mother and her child sitting with heads close together is downright stunning, or watching a child give their father butterfly kisses is painfully breathtaking.  Looking into the eyes of our fellow humans and seeing them for their inner strength and struggle over life's daily struggles is awe inspiring; just the shear fact that none of us have laid down and said I give up, game over, that we continue to muddle through life, is amazing.

These are just a few examples of the inner beauty that is within all of us.  It goes without saying the sheer magnitude and wondrous images that surround us in nature as well, but that kind of beauty speaks for itself, its the beauty within each of us that I seek out the most.

In Memory of Homer The Blind Wondercat

We lost a little piece of heaven this past Wednesday.  We lost a wonderful feline who spoke volumes to those who read his human, Gwen's, words, and shared their story.  Homer was the name of this little cat who changed the world.  He raised awareness for the plight of special needs cats, and helped an untold number of these animals find their way into their forever homes.  Homer's human, cat guardian, friend, and love was Gwen.  Gwen was brave enough to open her life to us and share the wonderful story of how she saved Homer from certain abandonment and most likely death.  She rescued Homer, just as he in turn rescued her.  Homer was, and will always, be a very special cat, he changed Gwen's life, and he also changed the lives of those who read Gwen's words, and listened to their story.  

I wept when I read the news of Homer's passing, and my heart broke for Gwen and her family's pain.  I never had the pleasure of meeting Homer or Gwen, but by reading her words, I came to know them and love them as my own friends.  Its funny how truly small the world has become with the internet, facebook and the like.  Gwen created a community around her and Homer; a community that loves her and supports her.  By sharing their story, Gwen also shared Homer with the rest of the world, and many the world over accepted and loved them with open arms.  

Homer spoke to the best that is within each of us.  He was a beautiful reminder of what is good, brave, loving and honorable in this world.  It may seem strange for me to mourn for this cat and human that I never met, but I know it truly isn't because my heart knows and loves them, and we have met in the eyes of every other pet lover that we are fortunate enough to meet.  Homer will be missed, and forever cherished, as will his family, Gwen, Lawrence, Clayton and Fanny.  We, your friends and "pet"family love you and are sending strength and support to you.  Homer will be missed, but never forgotten!

Dearest Gwen, I am so very sorry for your loss. My heart is breaking for you and your family as I sit here reading your beautiful words and tribute to such a wondrous, glorious shining creature like Homer. I read your story two years ago when I was going through an extremely hard time in my own life, and your words, Homer's strength and both of your enduring courage gave me the hope and faith to face life once again. Homer's whiskers brushed my face as I cried silent tears as I mourned my father's passing, and your lessons and discoveries in sharing such an endless, boundless love with Homer gave me the hugs and love that I needed to move on and re-engage in my life, and try to fill in the void that became me after I lost my dad. You and Homer helped spark me back to life! I fell in love with Homer and felt like an extremely small part of his beauty and rambunctiousness was mine as well. I want to thank you from the very bottom of my heart for sharing your story. I know words cannot even convey what you are feeling right now, but please know that not only was Homer loved and shared with the world, but so are you! We all love you Gwen, and we all surround you and support you in your time of need. I have no other advice to offer, no words to help ease the pain, other than we are here, we love you and while it may never be easy the pain will lesson in time. Homer is with you, he will always be with you, and you are not alone. Thank you for saving such a glorious creature, and thank you for sharing his and your story with the world. You are an amazing, shining example of what the love of an animal can do for us all. You both make the world a hell of a lot brighter and more hopeful and for that I am in your debt. Rest easy Homer, you will be forever missed, and forever loved and cherished. You are in my thought Gwen, and always will be!

This is a piece I wrote after reading Homer's Odyssey:

Cats are mystical, almost unworldly animals.  They deign to allow us to share their homes and bask in their glory.  Those people who have been gifted by being chosen by a cat to be their human know that to have a relationship with a feline is to have a relationship with a being the can operate on another plane of existence.  Cats are unique creatures that confuse and confound the best of us.  They truly embody Winston Churchill’s great saying, “they are an enigma, wrapped inside a conundrum, inside a mystery.”

Cats can lounge for hours in what appears to be a comatose state, and the suddenly and without warning leap up and bolt away as if the hounds of hell were on their tails.  They will always win a staring contest.  They have mastered the ability to look at a being with absolute impunity and leave them feeling lesser.  Cats play with utter abandon and joy with a box, bag, or some other human refuse.  We spend large sums of money buying cat toys to entertain our felines, and approach them with these gifts as if we are bringing tributes to a god.  Yet, no matter the sums spent, a cat will usually prefer the toys wrapper and thoroughly ignore its contents.  Cats can hunt non-existent entities for hours on end.  They chatter non-stop at the birds and squirrels that visit outside their windows.  Most impressively, they are capable of outdoing Superman by leaping over objects in a single bound, zooming through the house at near lightning speed, and dodging human’s hands that try to catch them with the greatest of ease.  In short, they are capable of amazing feats and no matter how many cats you’ve owned, you are often left in awe of just what these furry felines are capable of.  These attributes aside, a cat’s greatest ability is their emotional sensitivity to the humans around them. 

Cats know instinctually whether their human is sad, angry, bursting with happiness, or just simply pondering the meaning of life, and are able to articulate their own mood and actions around their human’s need; whether it be a nudge of support, a playful kitten-like show, or just simply the comforting sound of their purring next to them.  Somehow these beautiful creatures know what is needed before their human even arrives in their presence.  It is as if somehow our cats are tied to us spiritually, emotionally and psychically, even when we are not in the same location with them.  I know that my two frisky felines have surprised me many times over with their ability to just know. 

The emotional bond between a cat and its human is a thing of beauty.  Any pet, but in my opinions, cats particularly represent the highest ideals of unconditional love and the good that it can create it the world.  Cats have the uncanny ability to worm their way into our hearts and souls and become an indelible part in the fabric of our lives. 

No matter your view on felines, there are those creatures that stand out and draw attention to the greatness of their kind.  Aside from my two felines, whom I love dearly, deeply and fiercely, I have to admit that reading Gwen Cooper’s story Homer's Odyssey about her little boy Homer made me take pause.  The fact that this blind cat has not let his disability stop him from living his life to its fullest, to explore fearlessly, and even protect his human from a burglar in the dead of the night is a tribute to the greatness, unconditional love, and inherent joy that can be found in all cats that live on this earth.  If those traits can reside unabashedly in a small, fearless feline, and inspire his human to see her own life differently and teach her about the greatness of a life well lived no matter the challenges, than Homer should serve as an inspiration to all of us.  I know that my two companions, Padauan and LB, have inspired me, brought me hours of laughter, joy and comfort throughout our seven years together, just as Homer, a cat I have only known through someone else’s words has also inspired me.  My girls, and also Homer, have given me the courage to see my own odyssey through new, clearer eyes, though while my eyes may not glimmer with the depth of a cat’s, they hopefully mirror some small fragment of their joy, unconditional love and spirit.