Life is full of Tigers

Here's a little story. You've probably heard it before in one form or another. This story concerns a man or maybe it's a woman, who is being chased by a tiger until she reaches a cliff where she totters for a moment before falling.

Already know this one? Read it anyway.

As she tumbles down the side she grabs hold of a small shrub growing on the face of the cliff. She hangs there, poised precariously between life and death contemplating her next possible move.

She looks up. Above her the tiger remains panting and growling pacing back and forth. She knows she can't climb up. Looking down she sees another tiger prowling in anticipation at the bottom of the cliff. Where did he come from?

Then to make life even more interesting, she notices two small mice are now busily gnawing away at the main stem of the shrub on which her life literally depends.

Simultaneously she sees some wild roses growing just within reach. She plucks one and puts them to her nose to sniff and thinks to herself, "Ah... how intensely beautiful the fragrance!"

~~~

Life is full of tigers and the adrenaline and stress that come with them. This week tigers have been everywhere I turn. And those darn mice are but the gnawing worry that kept me awake last night wondering what I could do about the situations I was facing.

But, today while awaiting the results of a ten hour long surgery of a patient who is in my bone cancer support group, and hanging out with my elder lady buddies in the book discussion group I attend, and coming home to my three cats who come running to me like puppies to be petted; it was then I stopped and smelled the roses!

Who knows? Maybe all those tigers I've been dealing with will turn out to be made of paper after all.

Note: Both photos were taken by me. The Sierra Rose photo was enhanced in photoshop by plucking a rose from another picture and placing it there next to the dying bush.

Tree Hugger

I don't want to look. I know what they are doing out there. It hurts to know.

But, this is the way life goes. Isn't it? There is nothing I can do about it. I've seen it before.

When I was little I felt the same as I do now. But, there was a long period I was immune to feeling anything. I got too busy with life to care at the time.

The noise is deafening. The cats are disturbed. No matter where we hide, we cannot get away.

I suppose I could get in the car and drive somewhere, to the ocean maybe, to the redwood forest and walk among the trees.
But, I would cry. I've had enough of crying. It's a fact of life and I've got to face it... accept it.

I've looked over that fence a thousand times. I've watched that magnificent Magnolia grow, flourish, become the gem of the neighborhood. I don't know why I never took a picture. Mockingbird lives among it's branches. He has annoyed me with his cacophany all night long, many nights over the years.

But I'd trade his racket for the wood chomping monster any time. When he returns this evening, his home will be gone. Where will he go?

Maybe he can hang out in my pine tree out front. I can't believe I'm feeling sorry for a homeless mockingbird! This critter who has celebrated my insomnia numerous times! But, I could sleep better through his night calls if he was out front.

The workers have served the vile machine it's breakfast. It's chewed up Mother Magnolia. Is it going to have the Bottle Brush for snack? I wonder about the others little trees whose names I don't know.

Now, I look out the window across the fence. Barren. Nothing between me and the window across the way. How hot it will be for the neighbors this summer? I wonder if they will miss their privacy when look out the window and they see me looking right back at them! I certainly will be uncomfortable without the bowers between us. I sit on the bed, stunned.

I hear the men out there talking. Why haven't they gone? I'm curious and look out my window. They are cleaning up the remains. The branches and leaves on the ground. They've done there job well. It is what they do, their livelihood.

One of the men  is using a long pole to cut the ends off another big tree. I realize the Magnolia has enticed my eye for so long, I never knew there was another one hidden on the other side of the Magnolia. 

Is that the beginning of good bye for that one, too? I don't know what kind of tree it is.

Bambi nervously sits in the window now, watching, watching, twists her neck, looks back at me, a tiny mew. Does she feel it the way I do? Did she hear the tree screaming as they hacked away its soul? Do the other trees in the neighborhood shudder to think their friend is gone? My peach, apricot, plum trees, will they miss Magnolia? They barely have buds now.

Am I being childish to have this sadness for the sake of tree?

The owner is out there now looking at her nice clean yard. Through my closed window, I hear her sneeze. I'm surprised. This is not only going to be about visual privacy.

I think late tonight I will play angry RAP music!!!

Quietly, of course.  No louder than a sneeze.

Quiet Steady Rain

Branches dance to orchestration
chimes caressed by the wind
water dripping between spaces
so many pebbles pounding the roof
gutters rush to find a way to meet with wet soil

Stretching antenna, snails head for high ground
water dive bombing around them

Trailing ants gone
safely stowed in the attic,
or deeply burrowed beneath soil.
Can they manage the onslaught
of rivulets flooding
their collapsed corridors?

Opened window listening
Sonata plays full volume.

Water splayed upon window sill
Cats shake their paws
watch with piercing eyes
to see where each drop
ends it's journey

No resounding thunder, no lightning strikes
just the windows mumbling to the whispering wind
the conversation during intermission lulls me to sleep.

Elizabeth Munroz

January 2010