Nature

Humor: #1

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Calming Humor

An article on the traits of calming people listed humor as a way to “lighten the mood”. Since one goal of my spiritual life is tranquility I read the piece, though my chest tightened thinking how “humor” has hurt me. Ridicule, sarcasm, put downs, racial or religious humor don’t feel funny. Bury the blond jokes, the Polish jokes, the Jewish jokes, and all the others. Joking at one person’s expense to make someone else feel better is sick. For years I was abused by those forms of “humor”. I even used them to entertain others. Once I realized humor was painful I avoided it. Only in the last decade has a healthy (strange) humor entered to my conversational repertoire.

 

 

My humor derives of noticing incongruities: the four year old wearing a packer sweatshirt over a pink fluffy tutu. I laugh at animal behavior such as the incident where a robin sat on top of the suet feeder, bent over to peck at the food. A red-bellied woodpecker landed on the opposite side of the feeder and looked up. Seeing the robin’s butt, the woodpecker used his long bill to poke the robin in the rear, thus taking control of the feeder. An additional source of humor is ME. So many times I plan for one outcome only to have to deal with another. Reminds me of the quote, “The best laid plans of mice and men”. Laughing at myself relieves many a difficult situation.

 

Healthy humor and the ability to laugh at life is a gift. What about you? How does humor enhance your life? Can you share it?

Silence

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The Sound of Silence

The space between my presence and the twitter of birds

The cradle of my night

A bubble racing over black tar

The cat crossing the laminate floor

Eighty-eight ivories following the New Year’s party

Conversations with God

Time that’s stopped

The laughter that isn’t mine

Blinking eyes

Watercolor poppies on canvas

Silence envelops my body

Oh, that it would enter my brain.

 

GOOSE MUSIC

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Singing the present

Time: 7:25

Temperature: 25

Location: Wooden deck near Madison, Wisconsin

Wearing a flannel nightgown and wool vest, I fill and hang bird feeders. Overhead a noisy flock of geese flap their way to the marsh. The “v” formation and the honking form a vision of notes on a music staff. Goose Music serenading me – a pleasant distraction from neglected duties.

I haven’t written anything lately. I’m enveloped in isolation or depression. After purchasing a spiral, I recorded my “to do” list. The notebook is now half full. The critical parent in me demands to know why I’m so far behind. How could I be such a failure! A kinder side of me suggests looking at my accomplishments. I’ve created a new wildlife feeding station on the deck. I’m clearing out old papers. I’m changing, even praying for self-discipline.

The geese remind me of life’s circle, a pattern of constant change. Seasons change. Geese fly south. Local birds devour the seed and suet I provide.

Do I think of Fall as a period of loss? Loss of old habits, old possessions, skills that dissipate with old age. Or is Fall a time to rethink my life and reopen my spiritual connections?

The geese embrace the change, their “v” shaped chorus performing their travel song in the sky. What’s my travel song? Who’s in my chorus?

 

BEING PRESENT

Live in the present moment.

Don’t obsess about the past or worry about the future.

All you need is right here now.

(Spiritual Literacy, Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat, p.19)

 

A Divided Life

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Do you live a divided life?

Balancing job, home, family, and hobbies is one form of division.

The division I’m referring to is between material and spiritual. There was no room for the spiritual in my life. Of course, when I thought of spiritual, I thought religion. Today I recognize a difference.

My materialistic life equaled excavating a gravel pit. My focus was on protecting myself from the stones and equipment. My life seemed empty and meaningless.

Once I began my journey through therapy and Twelve Step groups, I discovered a Spirit, which was always present. I was just incapable of contacting It. Years later my focus changed. I could look up and SEE. At dawn the western pit wall shimmered in clear icy light. At evening, the eastern rocks held a rosy hue, a gift of the setting sun.

My eyes followed the spiral pit path past solid and loose stone displaying shades of gray, yellow and brown. A small buttery bloom nestled on the road’s edge. I climbed until I stood over it, then plucked it and observed it closely. Hundreds maybe thousands of thin golden petals spread in layers from the center. Each petal had a central vein reaching out to a v-shaped brown-edged notch. The blossom’s middle held a myriad of stamen like lemon lollypops. The flower was awesome. My view of a dandelion would never be the same. I now refer to a dandelion infested lawn as “happy grass”.

A gravel pit wasn’t where I really discovered the exquisiteness of a dandelion. My point is the lesson. When spirituality touches every aspect of daily, personal, and business life, our existence is deeply enriched.