A Bee, a Spider and Moth Walk into a Bar

A Bee, a Spider and Moth Walk into a Bar

Last week was filled with insects on the march, turning up here and there as reminder there are others living, breathing, and busy about their work or place in the greater universe.  It is good to get small wake up calls though the day, though the spider halfway down my water glass in the bathroom was a surprise.

I have for years put a tissue over my glass full of water in the bathroom.  I have told my husband, it is to keep dust, bugs, etc. out of my glass so when I stumble, half-awake into the small room of rest in the middle of the night I won’t be getting more than a mouth full of water when I drink.  His comment when we discovered the spider, a very big, big black spider in a half-filled glass of water, “Well, that didn’t work very well.”  He quickly went to work to rescue said spider from the glass without spilling the water, drowning the spider or breaking the water glass.  Did I ever mention the man is talented?

Once the spider was removed to the bottom of our driveway in order to hopefully keep it out of the house, we work on getting back to work.  We crawled into our car and set off to work.  After half a block, my husband said, “Look, there is a bee on the windshield.”   I replied, “Oh, no.  It is one of Travis’s bees.  Quick, go around the block so we can take it home so it won’t get lost.”  My man complied and slowly turned the car to the next block and we watched carefully the little bee holding onto the windshield of our car. I told my husband, go slow so it doesn’t fall off.  We lost the bee part of the way though the block and hoped the bee would find its way home.  We were about two blocks away so the chances were quite good.  At least, it is what I kept telling myself.  I kept gazing back for several blocks as if checking would make a difference.  Probably not.  It wasn’t Travis’s bee for sure. I decided to just be happy.

We went to work.  No more insects to bar our way, no wings fluttering in a maddening flight to make use of the fading day as the season works on drawing to the last days of summer.  But still, my mind traveled to the little visitors and the moments we shared.  I am fascinated by insects, bugs, life in general.  When I was younger, I would climb up the cottonwood trees to view the world through sunshine dappled leaves, and branches from my perch.  I would stay for hours.  Various ants, beetles, and other insects and bugs would share with me the tree though they viewed me as an obstacle to get around. I was never bitten but I am sure during my scrambling up to get into the tree many of the occupants were dislodged, smashed, homes, dwellings destroyed as my Gulliver size body invaded their Lilliputians’ world.  I am a bit more careful now.  For one, I don’t climb trees any more but my yard is filled with wildflowers growing with abandonment.  When I walked out today for a possible picture for this blog,  I was sadden not to find any bees flying, no bugs on the walls of my house, and only a few tiny grass spider webs in the shadows where the glass is still green but where the sun shone, the grass crackled under my feet. But the crickets were singing. Last year was the first year my ears caught the chirping of crickets. They are moving in as the area gets dryer.  Change.

Our day of visitors was not over.  It seems that most of the time, our bathroom collects various travelers who have somehow made it into the trap.  I am sure the existence of travelers are elsewhere as in my closets where it is dark, perhaps, living in a forgotten set of shoes flipped in a corner after a long day of walking around.  I am happy not to know and when I find out I respond with the right amount of alarm and head out to find our spider jar and old envelope to capture the previous unknown occupant to take out the door. They will be back, I know it but for the moment they will be gone.

 

We found the moth in bathroom on the mirror studying its reflection. It seems to suit a moth’s nature this attention to its appearance.  They are as a species rather flighty. Once again, the jar was grasped as my husband worked to catch the small grey miller moth. I admonished him to be careful as they are particularly fragile and I did not want the velvet covering on the moth’s wings damaged.  With great care the man capture fragility in a jar and head out the door to let it go in the bushes next to the house.

Why not the end of the driveway where our spiders go? Well, because the end of the driveway is where spiders go. Moths are delicate.  I hate to think of big, fat raindrops drowning the innocent whose only crime was getting into the house. Spiders on the other hand are sneaky, they crept up on you when you are relaxing reading or eating when suddenly they are there on your arm and you are shrieking with unfathomable panic. The end of driveway belongs to spiders.  Bees are noisy as a rule, they buzz.  Buzzing is good. You know where they are and can get out of the way.  Back into my house works for me.

I love my life.  I love the unexpected moments. I like the reminder calls coming gently into my life. Most are small things at least in my limited space upon a vast planet in a bigger area of other planets, stars, galaxies and whatever else you can think of. Call it the universe. What bothers me is the abundance I remember when I was a child, a young girl and woman is gone.  Butterflies flitting here and there, ants crawling everywhere on the ground, beetles flopped over on their backs with legs wildly moving, and the bees buzzing everywhere. Bees drinking from flowers growing in green of lawns where we as children rolled in the sweetness and coolness of grass and clover on the ground. Life was brimming. Now? A bee, a spider and moth walk into a bar. 

     

To Read or What not to Read

To Read or What not to Read

I am a reader.  I read all varieties of books.  Informative, inspirational, pure candy novels, hard fiction, horror and mysteries.  You name it, I have probably ventured to try it. My preference, however, would be science fiction, and fantasy with a couple of monsters thrown in.

Recently, my man wrote a novel that he was able to get published.  It has been released as a kindle version with a paperback version to come out this fall.   It happens to fall in one of my favorite categories, a space opera.   For one of the best in my point of view, I would go with Lois McMaster Bujold and her Vorkosigan Saga with Miles Vorkosigan.  My man has been reading the books to me.  We still are not finished the series as he switches to various other novels in between.  Terry Pratchett is a favorite with the Disc World books for our nightly reading.  Currently we are working on a new book and author to us on the kindle, Robert Lee Beers, “A Slight Case of Death”. It is “A Tony Mandolin Mystery”.  I am enjoying it.  My man, the actor lends his voice to the characters in this quick moving novel.  I have grown to like Mandolin and hate the fact my husband limits my bedtime stories when he sees my eyes at half-mast.

A few weeks ago, my man wrote in his blog about the change in reading from books to electronic devices such as the kindle.  He has his opinion which pretty well mirrors my own.  A glance about our house will lead you to believe our preference because of the various bookcases in every room we read books.  Well, not all of them.  None are for show, it just that we haven’t gotten to them yet.  For years and years, we have forsaken various books on shelves to the point that I am surprised that we have only gotten one or two duplicates in the thirty eight years we have been together.

Yes, we do use the library.  I am addict.  I work across the street from the library and despite the full bookcases at home I will wandered occasionally to see what is new, interesting and tempting enough to walk out the door with it tucked under my arm.  I love the feel of a book in my hands, I like the turning of pages, using various slips of paper to mark my place with a few bookmarks thrown in here and there in the piles of books that I have placed on the table waiting for my return.

A kindle just doesn’t seem the same.  I have probably fifteen total books loaded on ours.  Two came with the kindle. My husband reads in the bathtub, he loves a good soak with a good book.  You can imagine my shock to walk in and find him with my kindle (correction, our kindle, my man so kindly pointed out to me) in the bathtub with him.  A drowned book, okay, a very sad occurrence but the kindle?  The man pointed out to me because of the new cover, it wasn’t as slippery.  I backed out, sputtering to myself under my breath, my kindle, my kindle.  I didn’t have the heart to wrestle it from him when he smiled with his blue eyes twinkling at me.  But, growl.

Frequently, I chided myself about the content of what I am reading.  I am torn between “improving my mind” with my reading and a simple just quick good read.  Recently, I had an idea for a blog “The Zen of Shoelaces”.  I figured that I should read up on the matter a bit more, refresh my memory though I practice some form of mindfulness daily.  As we were picking up a friend at the airport, I was able to stop at the bookstore there and found two new books to inspire me.  “Mindfulness on the Go” by Jan Chozen Bays, MD seemed to fit the bill for a refresher on Zen.  I picked up “How to Love” by Thich Nhat Hanh, a favorite author of mine plus a quick read by Gail Carriger.  Needlessly to say, I have finished the Gail Carriger book a couple of weeks ago and I am still working on the other two.  Perhaps, it is because I misplaced the books for a couple of days?

No, I think inspirational books require more work, more attention with less distraction occurring around you. You can’t read while eating, watching bits of the news, talking or listening to someone else while trying to absorb or understand a theory, notion or great revelation.  You have to be present. You need to be alone.  Oh, God or Goddess can hang out with you, angels may hover but essentially you and you alone must hit the book or books and read with intent.

I am a morning person.  I prefer to wake up naturally which I do on the weekends.  But being a forty hour a week employee, I set my alarm for early, like in five am early.  It gives me time to read, sitting quietly at the table with a quick read or some a bit heavier and more inspirational.  This morning, I am up writing as my husband whisked himself off to work out at the community REC center.  This is my time.  Ordinarily, I would be out walking but as fall comes closer, the sun is still waiting to arrive.  I don’t walk in the dark.  I read with the light of my lamp. I pray. Mostly, I read or write depending on my morning inspiration.  Yesterday, I did stripped the beds and did laundry. Sometimes, I just exist.  It is a good thing.

Link to my man's book
Link to my man's blog

The Zen of Shoelaces

The Zen of Shoelaces

Sure, today it was easy to come up with a title for the blog with a faint idea of what I might want to write about but when I sat down to really knuckle down to hitting keys on the keyboard for something interesting, stimulating and thought-worthy, I think that I have lost my mojo, my muse, and the last pickle is gone from the jar.

Maybe I should go back into the bedroom, sit down and begin my ritual of putting my fancy black walking shoes on.  I try hurrying with pulling laces together in a way so they don’t come undone while I am walking.  As I was sitting there on my wooden hope chest that is covered with various quilts, woven blankets, a workout jacket, I was thinking tying shoe laces should be a meditation experience instead of the rush, rush hurry to get out the door which was in my case back to work.  The man, my husband was hovering.  I asked him if I was in his way, his reply, “Yes, of my shoes, my hat and my jacket.”

Really?  I was having mind opening experience and all he could think of was his stuff and me in the way of it all.  This was my Zen moment.  He was right, I had no time for Zen.  I needed to keep on track, tie the shoes and head out the door.  After all, returning to work was important, people were expecting me to show back up.  Particularly since our lunches are staggered. Hungry co-workers are the worse.  It is almost criminal to let them out the door, back on the street to rush with hundreds of others to find lunch, run errands until their brief interlude of freedom is gone.  Where is the Zen?

I tried to have another Zen moment while I was walking across the parking lot to my office.  We live on the coast.  We have gulls everywhere.  Laughing gulls, regular shrieking gulls, gulls just riding the currents or sitting on rooftops checking out the world.  Probably having a real Zen moment when they are not terrorizing us little workers trying to get into our buildings while nesting season is going on.  Fortunately for me, the birds are in the calm state as the babies are getting quite big, parents are getting very bored so I was able to look with some security at a baby chirping for food.  My little Zen moment, as I talked to it, telling it, look how big you are getting. I tried to listen to really listen to the birds in the sky, calling as they flew.  It was calming.

A day later when we were traveling to pick up a friend at the airport, we crossed the coast range where the new road runs on top and through the mountain ridges, the trees were shrouded in the low lying clouds, the valley hidden in moisture. We were in the clouds.  I hovered in the moment, my spirit soared. I was very aware of the beauty of the sunshine glimpsing through, sparkling on dew left glistening on the evergreens, the hemlocks and aspens. This is a Zen moment. This is awareness of the moment unfolding.  I quickly wrote a note to myself as a reminder to include this in my blog and we continued down the road filled with awe for a beautiful morning.

Often I am captured by the knowledge of how many of us there are when my man is driving rapidly down the freeway. An endless supply of humanity.  I say my prayers, I surround us with divine light and bless the roads we travel on.  As I do, I extend my consciousness, allowing the peace and love to flow to the drivers we pass, the drivers who pass us, asking for protection for all who travel, for the families who wait for them.  I experience my interest with a sort of childishness.  I am awed by the quick movement from spot to spot.  While just a brief hour ago, we were in the clouds with no other traffic and now, I am being crushed with cars, trucks, vans and mobile trailers whizzing by.  Where are they going or coming from? Are they happy? What do they do in their lives?  I salute their divinity. With my consciousness expanding, I guess I could call this another of my Zen moments.  Breathing in the moment.

I started out this morning with the intention of working on my blog, cooking, and baking food for the week after a long weekend of travel returning the friend to Portland to await her flight in the early morning. Time well spent as we enjoyed eating at a bakery/restaurant, wandering down a sidewalk looking in and out of little shops, clothing boutiques, and a bookstore always enjoying each other’s company.  The man herded us into the car and once again we were on our way.  Though I felt very present, chatting away with our friend, I didn’t think of it as Zen. Perhaps, I should have.  I was smiling, I was happy and totally aware of my one of my dearest loves being with us. I know that I was thinking of it. The Zen, the awareness, the being.

I had bought two new books, “Mindfulness on the Go” by Jan Chozen Bays, MD and “How to Love” by Thich Nhat Hanh when we had picked my friend up at the airport. I started the first while waiting in a parking structure in Portland while my friend visited with some friends.  My husband was reading. Another dear friend who came with us was reading; we enjoyed being absorbed in our books and the time flew.  I needed Inspirational reading as I was out of practice with taking care of myself. I enjoy reminders.  Sometimes I really don’t like the wakeup calls, most of which I observe happening to others.  Let me be happy.

We finished our trip back to Portland with a walk up and down a big mall until we spied a restaurant where we could eat.  It was a very nice dinner followed by a brief drive to the hotel near the airport to unload ourselves, our luggage. My friend and I grabbed a trolley and maneuvered it and ourselves to the room while the man parked the car.  Can you find Zen in a hotel room?

 

After my friend repacked, consolidating stuff given to her by friends into one suitcase and a carry-on, the three of us started to settle in.  I had washed my face, had the night cream on, my teeth brushed, flossed and my retainer in as well as slipping a light nightgown on to prepare for bed. My husband, the man, prepared to read to me while I curled up in the warmth of blankets, a soft bed and contentment.  I enjoy being read to. He had bought the Kindle with the book we had started.  After reading to me, he sat on the edge of the bed as my friend stretched out, relaxing and began reading to her as well.  He reads to me nightly and her, weekly.  He has written a book. My friend only gets one chapter of his book every Sunday.  I think we were all in a Zen moment. At least, I like to think so.  It is all after all, just moments after moments.  Let’s enjoy them.