immerse in God, emerge refreshed
“Light scatter from the microscope,” the eye surgeon said. “Your own personal light show.”
During outpatient surgery today, vivid shapes—morphing from teal blue to chartreuse—resembled photos I’ve taken of water, at dusk.
Interrupting
my chronic, distorted vision
and escalating dread …
glimpses of Beauty.
Had I ever sat so still? [Read more…]
“Squirrel!” Like the talking dog in the movie “Up,” I’m distracted.
While reading, peripheral movements at the bird feeder have snagged my gaze. A small rodent poses atop the Squirrel Begone Baffle.
Book forgotten, I fetch my camera.
I am easily baffled. Prone to distraction:
Some days my head locks onto the wrong setting: S.W.I.V.E.L.
A tree squirrel can rotate both hind ankles 180 degrees, allowing breezy, head-first walks down a tree trunk. Or the quick-shinny up a metal pole.
To learn from this one—albeit after the fact—I launch an imaginary conversation: “Do you have a message for me?”
Then I give him a voice and let him answer. You seem less agile, he seems to say.
Didn’t see that coming. Cheeky rodent. “Um, are you perchance … packing a metaphor?”
The squirrel does a double-take. Who me?
“Yes, you.”
Claws re-grip the pole. Coast is clear.
“Meaning …”
Dare …
Standing fully extended,
the squirrel looks relaxed, yet
primed for action.
“Show-off,” I say.
I’m enacting my hunger.
I suspect he says this because in his furry mind, he suspects I am not.
Whiskers, or vibrissae, surround the squirrel’s nose, mouth, and limbs. Vibrissae ferry nerve impulses brimming with tactile information straight to the brain.
Which restarts the dialogue. “Okay, Scamp, those whiskers suggest I pursue my current project with all my resources?”
The small head cocks, vibrissae quiver.
“Or … you’re implying a leap of faith will override my latest baffling obstacle: fear of finishing.”
Silence.
“I’ll discover balance in time for the next upward push?”
Nothing.
“Following my hungers, the God-given kind, might aid my mental agility?”
Tsk. Follow the ache; embrace the fun.
“I get it. Tend the small hungers within my reach. Then extend the reach.”
Distraction: harnessed via imaginary dialogue. If you try this, let me know what happens?
Dug, the talking dog, in “Up”—(watch here).
Ah, the siren call of the backyard rhododendron. Thick leaves gleam in the morning sun. I grab my camera, wedge my feet into black garden clogs, and squelch across lawn still bright with dew.
To my squeamish delight, this weird little bug appears, bright as a split lemon.
Will it bite? Does it fly?
I snap shot after shot, serenely transfixed. Spider or bug? What is it?
Two words swim up: Pay Attention. An order. A plea. A guiding phrase.