Every man wants to be settled, but only insofar as he is unsettled is there hope. (Ralph Waldo Emerson)
shortcake, dimples, kiki, at the "real" lake
She was poorly behaved yesterday, at a bridal shower. She did not want to sit and socialize. She did not perform, smile, or give affection appropriately or on command. And she screamed like a pterodactyl if she was not allowed to watch the hockey game (what? whose kid is this?) being played in the adjacent ice arena. Then, after a while in the hockey rink, she screamed when i wouldn’t let her climb all over the bleachers. So, I took her outside to continue her screaming.
I stood on the jogging trail while she threw a fit at my feet. My eyes followed the too-perfect curve of the artificial lake, and i compared the identical rows of too-perfect rocks where the water met the too-perfect grass. The windsurfers and canoers looked plastic. Imperfect, sweaty people passed us by, most of them smiling at the tantrum-ing toddler. Above it all, loomed the ugly power plant, which Shortcake noticed was making clouds.
The screaming eventually became whimpering, and the whimpering eventually became silence. I thought she was asleep on my shoulder when I heard her addressing the seagulls.
“Duckies. Not birdies? I hold him.”
I set her down so she could pursue the flock. She exaggerated a tiptoe, whispering “I’m just like you, birdie. Come back!”
She picked up white feathers, and after studying each one, held it up to the seagulls.
“Here you are, birdies.” The ugly creatures continued to evade her, but she followed them—north, then south, then north, again and again.
“Here you are! Here is your feather.” Defeated every time, she would eventually wait for a gust of wind, hold the feather up to the sky, and let the wind take it. And she would laugh.
We missed the gift opening. She did not finish her cupcake.
I’ve just done all of this, too: the tantrum, the whimpering, the silence. There are changes afoot, and uneven currents in the air. A dear friend has just blessed me with some red hawk medicine, with the reminder of the hawk’s sharp vision, its awareness of interconnectedness and the highest Intent, and its ability to see beyond what seems to be to what truly is. Yes, I do believe it is just about time to feel that wind.
