compassion

Feeling Very Loved – Day 1047

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Expressions of Love & Caring – Photo: L.Weikel

Feeling Very Loved

Man oh man, it’s been a week. Wait. What? It’s not over yet, you say? Well, I guess that’s technically true (and not a little scary). All I can say at this moment, though, is that I’m feeling very loved – and I have all of you to thank for that.

When I wrote my post last Sunday night, I was worried. I’d intended to write another anthropomorphized vegetable tale, but obviously that silliness was pre-empted. I may or may not regain the light-hearted silliness required to write about the carrot that arrived from the CSA last weekend.

As most of you know, it doesn’t matter what I may have tucked in the back of my mind as a possible topic on any given evening. Ultimately, I always opt to share my state-of-being in the moment. And I could feel in my bones that, even though he just seemed ‘punk’ throughout the day, Spartacus’s malaise was rapidly degrading into something far more concerning.

Community of Compassion

I want to tell all of you how much your words and gestures of love and compassion have meant to me this week. The first few days of the week were a blur of action and driving and shock. The next few felt like a slow-motion pileup of emotions – as well as that weird unable-to-catch-your-breath feeling of having the wind knocked out of you. That’s the feeling that accompanies sudden, irretrievable loss. It’s like a WOMP right to the solar plexus.

My wish is that none of you ever have to feel it. But of course, I know many of you already have. Whether you have or you haven’t experienced that feeling, reading about it is a gift. Not a gift to you necessarily. But definitely a gift to the writer. It’s a gift that you gut through it long enough to share in the emotions as hard as they may be to read, and then – even more amazingly – take the time to write a comment in response.

Can I tell you how much it meant to me to pull up FB on my phone and just see how many people had reacted? And then the shock of seeing the number of comments? I felt arms around me and a solidarity of shared compassion just in looking at those numbers.

To be honest, I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to read your sweet and loving comments until yesterday. It was a comfort simply to know you cared enough to write to me. I needed to wait a full day to take the time to scroll through them and then truly take in your love.

We Are Kindred Spirits

The level of compassion and understanding with which so very many of you responded was enlightening. The heartfelt responses I received from you were not a reflection of the quality of my writing. No. They were a reflection of the love that each and every one of you has experienced first-hand. Experienced – and then been forced to release into the ethers. Because that’s the nature of our lives.

The array of responses revealed something else, too: You’re all a bunch of lovers. We love and we let go.

The fact that I’m lucky enough to have so many people (from all over the world, I might add) in my life, sharing this journey, holding each other’s hands when any one of us is hurting, is a treasure. It’s not easy to live our lives with awareness. It’s hard to choose to feel – and not run from the hard stuff.

Thank you for being the kind softies you all revealed yourselves to be. I love being part of our community of compassion. I dare say it’s because we have each other that we pick ourselves up every day and refuse to give in to the darkness that threatens all of us every once in a while.

(T-64)

Discomfort and Wariness – Day 946

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Ray of Light – Photo: L. Weikel

Discomfort and Wariness

I just experienced something oddly unexpected. Only a few minutes ago, I turned on the tv and changed the channel to one of my favorite news programs. It only took a few moments before I sensed this weird feeling in myself – a discomfort and wariness. Echoing in the back of my mind I heard myself asking no one out loud, “What’s off here? Why does this feel weird?”

Believe it or not, it actually took me a minute or two to figure out just what was distracting me. Maybe it’s the audio, I thought. Yeah, that was a possibility. But nah, it didn’t feel like it was simply a microphone issue. Huh. What could it be? And that’s when the camera panned out.

I think I may have literally recoiled (if only slightly). But there was the host sitting uncomfortably close to his guest, asking her questions and even laughing out loud to something she remarked upon. I think it was the guffaw that appalled me most. Good grief, he didn’t even cover his mouth when he laughed.

It felt wrong.

Things Change

Apparently, though, this is our evolved state. We’re back to in-person interviewing.

I think I’m genuinely surprised by my reaction to the resumption of face-to-face interactions. While it seems super that it’s permitted, I just don’t know.

Call me wary, but I’m sensing that the sounding of the ‘all clear’ horn is a bit premature. While I realize everyone’s clamoring to get ‘back to normal,’ I’m not thrilled about the idea of the Delta variant, which I’m pretty sure is the one that’s ripped through India and has caused new cases to skyrocket in Great Britain. Why risk playing around with this?

Is it a lot to ask ourselves to keep our masks on when we’re in public places? It just feels unnecessarily cavalier to tool around maskless when we have no idea how vulnerable any of us really is when it comes to spreading or catching the variant.

A Matter of Trust

It’s sad to me that my intuition sounds the alarm when I walk into the grocery store and see people maskless. It does, though. This is especially true when I see the sign on the door advising that masks are required for all people who’ve not been vaccinated.

Well. That pretty much dangles a carrot in front of those who choose not to be vaccinated, doesn’t it? What’s to stop a person who doesn’t believe in vaccinations (nor in social distancing) from simply doing whatever they want? The state of public life at this point asks people to self-regulate. Which means anyone can do whatever they want, and we all need to ‘just trust’ each other.

Looks Askance

Upon reflection, I realize I was actually getting some looks when I stopped at the grocery store today. I had a mask on. It’s unobtrusive. But I actually sensed people looking at my mask today, and either drawing conclusions or wondering about me, which was not my experience until now.

Were they wondering if I’d been vaccinated? Did they wonder if I was sick? Were they thinking I was just some smug ‘liberal’ trying to push my agenda on them? (My mask did say ‘Love’ – which might be considered a ‘tell.’) All of a sudden I felt like there was a lot more judgment swirling around the grocery store aisles than I’d ever felt before.

All of this jubilant ‘return to normal’ feels a bit premature. I worry about the people with health issues – or have loved ones at home who are at risk. And it makes me sad that I’ve come to the conclusion that trusting my fellow citizens to simply wear a mask if they choose not to get vaccinated is a bridge too far.

Clouds of Discomfort and Wariness – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-165)

Weird Week – Day 886

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Exquisite Spring Day – Photo: L. Weikel

Weird Week

This has been such a weird week already – and it’s not even Friday yet. (Well, it will be by the time this is read; but you get my drift.) And I have a feeling the weirdness isn’t done with us yet.

There’s been a dramatic acceleration of activity in many spheres. Notice I didn’t say a dramatic acceleration of movement or forward momentum. No. There’s just been a lot of activity – some of it constructive, some of it obstructive. And some of it just downright maddening and perplexing. Even a lot of spinning in place, one might say.

It’s hard to describe the shock I feel, in some ways, of dealing with so many people all at once in the span of four days. It makes me realize just how profoundly my baseline sense of ‘normal’ has changed in the past year.

I’ve literally engaged with people face-to-face (masked where appropriate, socially distanced in every instance) every single day this week. Tomorrow I have the opportunity and responsibility to engage further with more people and I’m simply agog at the thought.

Don’t Get Me Wrong

I’m not complaining. I’m observing. I always knew I was an introvert; that’s what’s actually made navigating the pandemic this past year relatively pleasant and comforting. I’m one of the lucky ones. I have space. I have direct access to innumerable expressions of Mother Nature and the ability to take a walk and enjoy them without a lingering fear in the back of my mind that I might not make it back to my house alive.

Yes, I’ve missed giving people hugs. Funnily enough, I think I’ve discovered that the circumstances in which I miss the gift of hugging most acutely are those that involve people who I would not ordinarily hug, but who I sense need them the most. What I mean by that is, yes, I miss giving my kids and my dear friends hugs. But I exquisitely miss the comfort and care that I sometimes feel can only be conveyed in a hug that transcends all words.

And the wordless expression of transcendent love and compassion are sometimes the precise and only gift that’s worth giving.

Buffeted

I find myself buffeted by the extremes of our existence. The yearning desire so many have to receive the vaccine that will protect them from catching a deadly disease – to the point that they burst into tears when they receive their inoculation(s). And then witnessing the casual indifference to the snuffing out of the lives of Black people by those we wish could be trusted to protect us – all of us – regardless of our skin color. As a mother – as a human – I just cannot fathom the relentless injustice and the disregard, time after time after time, for the preciousness of these lives.

I groused last night about feeling the effects of tree pollen. At least, that’s what I think was afflicting me last night. And yet…I stopped in my tracks when I looked at the exquisite beauty of the trees and clouds and grass I found myself driving past this afternoon. I almost drove right past this stunning hug from Mother Earth herself.

I’m glad I stopped in the middle of where I was driving and tried to capture the essence that overwhelmed me in that moment. It was a wordless moment of unconditional love and compassion. She was giving to me what I yearn to give to others.

More goldfinches amongst magnolia blossoms – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-225)

Sleep Well – Day 801

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Tigger Sleeping Well – Photo: L. Weikel

Sleep Well

There’s nothing I can say tonight that can do justice to the spectacular nature of today’s events. My heart is full, my unabashed idealism stoked. I’m speechless, but undaunted in my desire to revel in the hope that’s been renewed in my soul. Tonight, at least, this household will sleep well.

There were so many moments. All day. Culminating in the single most amazing fireworks display I’ve ever seen. I only wish I could’ve been there to witness them personally, to feel their reverberations, and to immerse myself in their brilliance.

I can honestly say that in all my 61 years on this planet, I’ve never felt so invested in witnessing inaugural pomp, circumstance, and festivities as I did this year. Right down to the swearing in of the thousand or so people starting new jobs in the administration today who will be carrying forward the day-to-day work of getting the government working for us, the people, once again. I felt my heart flutter when I heard President Biden welcome and celebrate these civil servants and simultaneously let them know they would be summarily fired if found to be disrespecting or denigrating constituents. Accountability. Yes. May it be brought to every level of our government, especially the highest.

Precious Sleeping Well – Photo: L. Weikel

Back to Basics

President Biden brought some simple yet inarguably powerful concepts to the fore today, concepts that if honored can restore us from the ground up: Unity. Truth. Respect. And while he didn’t use the word very often, a sense of LOVE wove its way through every sentence he spoke.

Not the wet-lick-in-the-ear understanding of love we may be tempted to default to when we hear that word. I mean a higher order of love. A love that is founded upon respect, that embraces facts and tells the truth, and a love that cherishes our differences because they are what make us stronger because we each bring to the table something no one else can. Unity in diversity.

E pluribus unum. Out of many, one.

Cletus (Probably Faking It) – Photo: L. Weikel

Top Down

Even beyond all the words (and wow, speaking of words – Amanda Gorman was absolutely brilliant and a testament to the reason why we have no choice but to have faith in and hope for our future), the most striking lesson from everything we witnessed today was just how much power, authority, and influence those who occupy the highest positions carry.

We take our cues from those we choose to lead us. We look to them for confirmation of what we know, deep down, is right and true. If compassion is their watchword, we feel comfortable expressing it toward each other and ourselves. If they tell us the truth, we learn to trust not only them (whether it’s good news or bad) but also our own ability to handle that truth. We realize we’re resilient.

When kindness and grace is displayed by those we hold in highest regard, we emulate it. When we see with our own eyes the power that simple acts of goodness confers, we’re changed. We’re inspired.

Never underestimate the power of a leader who leads by example of both head and heart.

Perhaps we’re ready now to appreciate just that.

One thing I know: we’ll all sleep well tonight with people like President Biden and Vice President Harris leading the way into our future.

Spartacus Zonked – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-310)

Home Stretch – Day 777

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Home Stretch – Precious – Photo: L. Weikel

Home Stretch

Here we are, entering the home stretch of 2020, four digits comprising a year that will surely live as infamously in our collective memories as the three digits of 9/11.

Even though I sense it’s a mistake to think everything will suddenly improve once 2021 arrives, there is something to be said for ringing in a new year (or sometimes even a new month or a new week – if we’re desperate). No matter what our circumstances, it’s our nature as humans. We look for a reason to renew our hope, to believe that the tide has turned, that something – even if imperceptible – has changed.

And the truth is, things will change in 2021. As it’s been said countless times over the years, change is constant and therefor inevitable. Every single thing we look at, taste, touch, smell, perceive in any way is changing. It may be imperceptible at any given moment, but change is inexorable.

Fear of Change

Another truth? We humans tend to fear change at the deepest level of our being. How much do we fear it? We fear it so much that we’ll often opt to remain in a situation that literally hurts us physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, including combinations thereof, rather than affirmatively act to change our circumstances.

So these two competing concepts set us up for some serious stress. Everything changes; therefore change is inevitable. Yet we fear change, resist it, and plain just do not like it.

Coping with these internal stressors can be hard on us on a good day. But when you think about what all of us have been dealing with over the past year (and some might even argue for the past four years), including massive job loss, complete disruption of our lives on every level but especially socially, food and housing insecurity felt by people who’ve never encountered this situation before, pandemic infection rates rising exponentially, massive loss of loved ones on a scale not seen in a century. I could throw into this toxic mess the instability and fear that an unstable person in the White House who refuses to abide by the results of our election (and the appalling behavior of his enablers in the U.S. Congress) creates in the pit of our collective stomach.

It’s just all so very much to handle. We are at once being asked to duck and bob and weave the repercussions of change all day every day, while also, again, feeling like any change could lead to something worse.

Hope

And so? With change on the horizon, as it inevitably is, the best we can do is hope that it’s bringing us a better tomorrow. We have the ability to make choices that impact the change we experience.

We can choose to behave safely. We can choose to stay home unless absolutely required for our employment or survival. We can choose to be compassionate toward ourselves and each other. The person who is stressed out beyond measure in the grocery checkout line may well have just lost a family member or friend.

One in 17 of us have contracted the virus and one out of every 1,000 Americans have now died from Covid. The chances of personally experiencing the ravages of this pandemic – or knowing someone who has – are increasing at an alarming rate. Knowing this, we can choose to be kind. We can choose to respect each other and not force a choice between one person’s ‘rights’ and another’s.

We can choose to be people who engender hope – in humanity, in each other, in our future.

We’re in the home stretch of 2020. Let’s set the bar for ourselves for 2021 and stretch to meet our best selves this coming year.

The day we lose our hope, we lose ourselves.

Home Stretch – Spartacus (aka “Kissing the Bear”) – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-334)

Fork – Day 769

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A Gigantic Fork – Photo: L. Weikel

Fork

The photo above is of a gargantuan fork that’s been in our cutlery drawer for several decades. I put a pen beside it to give context to the extraordinary size of that fork. But even with that, I doubt you’re getting the full flavor of what I’m trying to convey.

But what I may be struggling to convey in the photo is actually something I sense we’re all feeling. Something we all know, at the deepest level of our being.

“Stick a fork in me; I’m done.” Or perhaps more accurately: “Stick a fork in us; we’re done.”

That’s the sentiment I’m feeling at the moment, and it’s threatening to overwhelm me. I don’t think I’m speaking solely for myself, either. Far from it.

So What’s My Deal?

I can’t say for sure. Perhaps this is part of what I ‘do’ in the world. I pay attention to what’s happening in our shared reality and do my best to hold space in my heart for others. We can’t all be on the front lines, after all. We can’t all be reporting on it, either. Not all of us are trained for – or even suited to – engaging in what, at this moment in our evolution, feels like exacting the greatest of sacrifices day in and day out.

But even though I’m not doing it myself, I’m paying attention. I’m also paying attention (on behalf of those who are so engrossed in the day to day efforts of keeping people alive and safe) to what is going on at the highest levels of our government, right before our very eyes. There is a concerted effort, it seems, to rip us asunder while we’re all preoccupied with exponential infection rates and vertical hospitalization and death rates.

While we fight for survival, we’re being taken to the cleaners. Sold out. Compromised in the worst ways. It’s a cynical and even diabolical calculation. But it must be called out. We must each do our part to end the madness.

What’s Our Deal?

We need to stay home. We need to be smart and vigilant and take this threat to our health seriously. We would be wise to pay attention to what we have and what we cherish – and resist the temptation to lament what we’re being asked to forego for a few days, weeks, or months.

We need to stick a fork in our belligerent refusal to acknowledge the astounding suffering of so many in our country (and around the world, but especially here). It’s done. It serves no one – except, perhaps, those who are banking on our preoccupation.

Things are getting worse. All the warnings about what would happen if people ignored the warnings about gathering at Thanksgiving are coming to pass. A single county in California just logged 100,000 new cases in the past week. And yet people shop and carry on – as if nothing is happening.

We can see – right before our eyes – what will happen a month from now. Only it will be worse. Guaranteed.

We need to stick a gargantuan fork in our denial of reality because it’s killing us and distracting us. We must refuse to be distracted any longer.

We’re Better Than This

It’s time to take responsibility for ourselves and each other. If there’s a strain of Covid that’s in the UK that’s spreading at a rate 70% faster than what we’re encountering now, we need to be smart. We need to take even greater precautions than what’s being asked of us. We need to stop living in denial and realize that what they’re dealing with, we’ll be dealing with in the blink of an eye.

We need to love ourselves and each other enough to realize that we’re in this together.

We need to stick a fork in our selfish ways. Ultimately, those ways are hurting us all. They’re breaking our hearts, wearing us down, and sapping our will to be kind and courageous. And perhaps worst of all, they’re serving those who want us distracted from an unprecedented power grab that could have untold implications.

We must find our will. We must be vigilant. We must find our compassion.

And we must remember: we’re better than this.

(T-342)

You Just Never Know – Day 747

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Photo: L. Weikel

You Just Never Know

We’ve all heard the adage that we should never judge another until we’ve walked a mile in their shoes. And of course it’s an adage because it’s a truism, an expression of a common experience. The sticky part of this is that you just never know what shoes another person has worn. Nor do most of us know what anyone’s shoes are made of, where they’ve been, whether they were designed for how they’re worn, or how many times they’ve needed to be resoled.

I happened to have a couple discussions today with some people I care a lot about. Two main conversations took place with individuals who do not know each other, whose paths I don’t believe have crossed. If you were to meet them at a party or in the grocery store, you’d imagine their lives to be ones of relative good fortune. You wouldn’t be wrong in that assessment, and yet your conclusion wouldn’t be entirely accurate, either. Not by a long shot.

Photo: L. Weikel

Details

I’ve listened to the details of a lot of lives over the course of my own, and it never ceases to amaze me just how much some people are asked to endure. Whether the challenges consist of professional surprises that batter and smack them against rocky shores, the utter despair of comforting a child whose physical body seems incapable of finding peace or healing, discovering that the voices of a relationship blow past each other, unheard or misunderstood – most of these issues can be devastating in their singular experience. What’s astounding is realizing that a shocking number of people are, especially now, reeling from the experience of multiple traumas to heart and soul at one time.

We are living amongst the walking wounded. We’re also living amongst the bravest and most courageous of souls.

I imagine every single person reading this post is holding up their end of probably at least two or three deeply troublesome and thorny burdens. Attempting to compare them serves no purpose. The true point is that all around us our friends, acquaintances, colleagues, and loved ones are dealing with ‘stuff’ that threatens to grind us down to emotional nubs.

Different shoes. Some more worn down than others. Some may have lost any semblance of ability to protect the wearer from the road they’re traveling. And yet they – we – carry on.

It seems we’re all being pushed by forces far greater than us to face our challenges. To change if we must. To exercise compassion. To walk beside each other and not compare our struggles but support each on their – and our – own unique path.

Lots of shoes.

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-364)

Eve of Our Future – Day 722

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Rainbow Selfie – with Kamala at our backs – Photo: L. Weikel

Eve of Our Future

Well, we’re finally here. The time to stand up and be counted, to let ourselves and the world know where we’re headed, has arrived. We’re here. We’ve arrived at the eve of our future.

What will that future look like? I don’t need to tell you. We all know the consequences – some of them immediate – of the choices we’ll be making tomorrow.

We either repudiate what’s been done in our name over the past four years (regardless of how well our portfolios or 401(k)s may have done – that is, if we’re lucky enough to have either) or we don’t. We either show the world 2016 was an aberration, a ‘black swan event,’ or we don’t. We either take a stand against some of the most barbaric, egregious policies and behaviors of any government, much less our own – or we don’t. We either commit to being a global partner and leader in addressing climate change, or we make it worse.

I could go on.

Justice, Integrity, Truth, and Respect

These are the qualities on the ballot tomorrow. And while we yearn to have these values restored within the White House, I sense there’s an even deeper craving for these values to be declared far and wide – and modeled everywhere – as qualities inherent in the way Americans treat each other.

What do we have to lose if we don’t vote, or if vote to retain the current president? E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. He has declared his intentions. Are we listening? There are precious few who will benefit, while vast swaths of our country fall into abject misery.

Love, Compassion, and the Power of Diversity

I believe in us. I believe in our dignity and devotion to higher ideals than the value of the stock market or the country of our origin. I believe that deep down, all of us yearn to be treated with love and compassion. I believe in the wisdom of our forebears who succinctly espoused the greatest strength of our nation: e pluribus unum. “Out of many, one.”

Kamala Harris – Photo: L. Weikel

Rare Treat

As you’ve adroitly surmised from the accompanying photos, Karl and I were invited to an event today featuring vice presidential candidate Kamala Harris. Taking in the entire milieu as we waited for Representative Wild, Senator Casey, and others to arrive and speak, I will admit to feeling an overflow of emotion. Not wild abandon. Not screaming passion.; but a wellspring of hope and yearning for aspirational governance.

Speaker after speaker, from activists to representatives, spoke with conviction, yes. Each spoke with passion, a sense of commitment to change, and a demand for inclusion and diversity. But there was one thing not a single one of them brought to the table: cynicism.

Kamala Harris – 2 November 2020 – Photo: L. Weikel

Kamala Harris

I’ve paid attention to our politics. I knew from her resume and the interviews and debates I watched that Kamala Harris is a strong candidate. But there’s something extra you feel when you experience candidates up close and personal. It’s hard to define, but you feel their energy, perhaps a bit more of their essence.

And I couldn’t help but feel we were getting a chance to truly view the Eve of our future.

It’s time.

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-389)

Early Night – Day 629

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Tohickon Creek – 1 August 2020 – Photo: L. Weikel

Early Night

I’m tired. I’m going to try to wrest an early night out of this Saturday evening.

The weather today was a classic August day: quite exquisite, if just a scootch on the warm and muggy side.

Karl and I took a short jaunt to the banks of the Tohickon Creek late this afternoon. We sat on rocks jutting out into the creek, dangling our feet in waters swollen by the torrents of rain that lashed our area late Thursday evening. The cooling comfort of the creek’s steady stream was a perfect complement to the pleasure of losing ourselves in our books.

As Karl approaches his birthday, he was delighted to recently discover an author whose work he can totally immerse himself in. (Double bonus for me – since now I know something he’ll love that I can get him for his birthday.)

Needed to Read

While I’m savoring the last few chapters of a novel, Ninth House,* dubbed as fantasy (but which actually feels more real-life than most would think…), I have to admit I fell down the rabbit hole and interrupted my ‘fantasy’ novel with Mary Trump’s Too Much and Never Enough*.

Because I am fascinated by what feels like an eternal quest to understand why people are the way they are and do what do, I’ll admit it: reading the stories in this book does shed some light on the forces that shaped our current president. His background is terribly sad in its own way. But as bad as the treatment may have been, it’s pretty obvious that the tendencies to react in the bizarrely cruel ways he did to his childhood were there from the very beginning.

I guess I’m saying that, approximately halfway through the book, I feel compassion for his dysfunction. But I’m also, at the same time, appalled that he was permitted to, as the author says, ‘fail up.’ Repeatedly. And continues to have his glaring inadequacies covered up or explained away or simply glossed over, all the while people, including children at the border, are literally paying for that dysfunction with their lives.

It’s funny; I sort of feel as though it’s my responsibility to at least try to understand him. Perhaps it’s a form of self-preservation. If we can somehow figure out his endgame, maybe we can somehow avoid the horrific ending to this debacle that’s barreling toward us.

But I’m sensing that’s not going to be achievable no matter how well we understand him. And that is terrifying.

Enjoy the beauty that surrounded us as we read.

Tohickon Creek (1 Aug 2020) Photo: L. Weikel

*affiliate link

(T-482)

Checking In – Day 523

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One of my many vices – Photo: L. Weikel

Checking In

Rain is pattering down outside and I’m sitting here listening to it. This Friday night is cold, wet, and can be pretty fairly characterized as miserable. So I’m checking in, wondering how you’re all managing to negotiate the temptations of too much…well, too much of anything.

You name it. If you’re like me, you can over-indulge in any number of vices. Netflix, chocolate, roasted peanuts. You name it.

Yeah, I just ticked off my latest ‘big three.’

Oh my goodness. What is it with these peanuts? All of a sudden, I am absolutely held hostage by the irresistible urge to eat them mindlessly, one after another, seemingly powerless to stop. Time after time, I promise myself that this is the last handful I’m going to take from the bag – the bag I bought to feed my blue jays and fish crows, if I’m honest.

As Bad As Sheila

I’m not the only one succumbing to temptation and indulgence in this household.

Sheila has been particularly egregious in her flaunting of the social norms established in our household over the past 15 years.

No eating cat poop. That’s a pretty hard and fast rule. Well, poop of any kind, but cat poop is usually the most frequently encountered fecal fast food in Sheila and Spartacus’s pantry.

I don’t know what has gotten into Sheila lately, but she’s been veritably defiant. Honestly, I think it’s her blindness. If she can’t see us, she thinks we can’t see her? Or is it her deafness. I screetched when I caught her foursquare in the cat box this morning – and she didn’t even flinch.

Ugh. I was so angry. She knows better.

And yet she just snuffled in my general direction when I picked her up and did not exude the least bit of remorse. And she used to feel bad about being a bad girl! (Then again, so did I.)

Exiting the snack bar, oblivious to being discovered – Photo: L. Weikel

Stress Eating

All of which brings me back round again to the topic of stress eating. Man, I am struggling with this. I think the key for me is not having it around. And I wouldn’t, but for the fact that, because of this coronavirus pandemic, I do not have the luxury of running out to the store to buy stuff only when I need it.

Case in point: the peanuts I give to my blue jays, fish crows, and – albeit begrudgingly – the squirrels. Because I find myself buying a couple bags of peanuts when I go to the store, I have access to them. I can’t just fill all the feeder/dispensers. No. There’s always some left over; a bag half empty. And if I make the mistake of cracking open just one beautiful nut perfectly along its seam, exposing the precious insides, encased in their natural tissue paper wrapping, I inevitably find I am helpless to resist. I pop the delicious morsels into my mouth and am compelled to reach for the next perfect crack-and-reveal. And then the next…

Even Though I Know I Shouldn’t

So I find myself feeling some compassion for Sheila. She’s old. She can still navigate her way to the cat box and snuffle out the occasional treat. She’s been sneaking them for years – and is simply less adept at snagging them undetected anymore. Given that we close the door to the bathroom (most of the way – not entirely; the cats can’t open the door on their own) in order to deter the old coot, the mere fact that she can blindly negotiate her way into the bathroom at all is a coup that merits the reward.

I don’t know that I exhibit talent even remotely on the same par as Sheila in tracking down my peanuts. But I do know they’re probably as (not) good for me as the crusted snacks she snags for herself.

Judging from her expression, though, I’d say she clearly feels they’re worth my displeasure. Or at the very least, she feels zero remorse. UGH.

Cat litter snout – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-588)