Thursday, January 13, 2011

Beauty, Gratitude, Choosing, Groupmind, Flying.

Squeezing my gashogSUV into a parking space in town, on my way to meeting with fellow writers, I noticed this beautiful young woman perched on the fire hydrant in front of the toy store.  She was dressed like an artist ought to be dressed, with striped leggings, boots, the Pea Coat and lime green hat.  Guessing that she is 13 or so, and remembering my daughters admonishment, "Ask before you take your photos!" I did approach her and ask her permission.  She turned her perfect face to me, her enormous blue eyes reading me thoroughly, she tossed my way, "Sure.  Whatever."  The woman you see photographing her was having a good time, carrying on with a steady stream of verbal appreciation.  Interrupting herself, she asked me, "Is she your granddaughter?  Is that why you're taking her picture?"  I smiled, giggled actually(sorry Dev), because it reminded me of how in certain situations I forget that I do not know everybody on the planet, how every child, kid, baby is mine; how every dog is mine; how every elderly woman is my grandma.  It just happens.  And then I have to think my way back to (hahaha) reality.

"No, " I said, putting my camera back into the car, with one shot taken, "She's just so darned perfect."

I am so grateful that she was sitting there, in that moment.

Starlings and Blackbirds have been dropping out of the sky.  Various theories are afloat.  In our area a hundred or so were found on the freeway shoulder.  Oh no, not here too.  The birds fly in enormous flocks.  I love to watch them, and yes, I always pull off to the side of the road, as I am so completely distractable.  The local killing seems to have resulted from a flock like this (maybe even this flock) flew so low that they collided with an 18 wheeler.  Now, I have never heard of such a thing.

What could this be showing us?

Understanding "group mind" is a tall ambition:  Is it possible to have freedom?  Freedom of speech?  Can I really choose to go North when the population is headed South?  Does a Lemming ever change its mind and not leap off the cliff?  One cannot be a rebel with nothing to fight against.

There is much at stake here.

No!  Turn right!  No!  We're going left!  No!  Up!  No!  Down!

Imagine the mess.

Taj Mahal is singing in the living room.  He comes on the stereo every morning as a result of Rebekah's tinkering with the buttons and dials about seven years ago.  So, the stereo comes on every morning, ready or not.  And I love it.  I am reminded of that little girl showing me how she plays the piano, on my new piece of equipment.  She is almost as tall as me now, 12-going-on-twenty.

For her sake, I am compelled to open the creaking doors to my perceptions, projections, my negativity, my opinions, my co-creating worst-case-scenarios, my fears, my certainties--- to see them for the notions they are.  Any idea, thought, belief is an ethereal nothing, even while it stifles, condemns, stops.

For her sake, I am compelled to let go of stuck-ness.  I am compelled to give up, turn over my own violent, revenge-filled thoughts.  I lay down the machine guns of my mind.

Of late, I have heard the words, "Turn my Life over to God."  For every stubborn, right, strong, farm-girl, I-can-do-it-myself thought, there is the strength, faith and good, Knowing.  I am not alone.

Aahhh.  That's better.  Now, for the flying.

Love you.


Merry ME said...

OMG - you too?
I can't pass by a baby, or a toddler, or an old lady or pierced teen without wanting to smile, say hi, reach out and hug, and even photograph.

One day a little girl in the car parked next to me was giving her mother a fit about something. She was dressed in her pajamas in the middle of the afternoon. Mom was busy putting baby sister in a grocery cart and PJ girl was talking away. I was in the space right next to all the carts. I just sat there laughing and mom says to the girl she's looking at you - as if to say, you might want to start behaving -. So she turned her attention to me. We had a short conversation about the wearing pjs to school and I thought it was a novel idea then the girl stopped - mid sentence.
Can I talk to her? she asked her mother. But it was too late. We'd already talked! If I'd been a kidnapper I guess I could have done my dirty deed. Instead, I backed off and told them to have a good day. I could tell mom was tired. She didn't a friendly stranger to break the rules and cause suspicion that all strangers are not boogie men.

Oh how I wish I had a real picture of the girl, not just the one in my mind. Bless you for not being afraid to go with your heart.

Anonymous said...

Yes, yes, yes, to all of it. And one doesn't have to be a mother or grandmother to recognize the Oneness in each one...I talk to babies in grocery stores, flu shot lines, name it. Parents grin. I love the way all the pieces and parts come into Oneness in this beautiful post. And the pictures! Oh!

Elizabeth said...

What a fascinating post this is -- I am so glad that you're "back!"

Ms. Moon said...

Soar, Mama Bird. Soar.

N2 said...

Yes! She is back in the posting groove!

One _can_ "chose to go north when the population is going south" and one usually finds one is not alone in that decision, whatever appearances might be in the part of the flock that is in one's close vicinity.

Good thought, that: "I lay down the machine guns of my mind."

x0 N2

Kim and Victoria said...

The second pic looks like a thumbprint in the sky.

Annie said...

There sure has been a lot about starlings and their murmurating ways. New word I learned from an English blog. I've experienced small groups of birds (not starlings) doing the same thing. I often see it in the grocery parking lot and it never fails to stop me. I even video'd it one day. I should post it sometime. Or, hmmmm, maybe I did but I dont remember. I should check.

Creaking doors of perception - yeah, any discerning parent worth their salt will do that. Sadly, a few too many parents out there who refuse to open the doors. Ach! That's something for another day. I'm going to go look for the murmurating birdies.

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