Bird Droppings April 17, 2024
I am eating some leftover chicken parmesan and thinking about the circle of life.
I made a huge pan of chicken parmesan a few days back and had plenty of leftovers. So I am sitting at my computer working on my Birddroppings and dissertation, eating some. Several things have led me to my writing today. I am a student of Carl Jung in terms of my psychological philosophy, which is more in tune with him than, say, Freud. I see events intertwining and taking us to the next event. As I have been working on citations for my dissertation and verifying page numbers from several references, I ended up reading Dr. Michael Garrett’s book Walking in the Wind again yesterday.
“You have noticed that everything an Indian does is in a circle, and that is because the power of the world always works in circles, and everything tries to be round.” Black Elk, Ogalala Lakota Medicine man
If you think a bit soon, all you will see are circles. Hurricanes and tornadoes move in circles. Birds build their nests in circles. The more philosophical meaning could be looking at life; we have birth and then the circle of our journey until death completes the circle. In the past six days or so, several friends from high school have passed on. Each had a journey in life, touching many people and many friends.
I mowed my backyard yesterday, trying to stay ahead of the forecasted rain early this morning. I have a large selection of music on my Apple Music through my iPhone and hearing aids. My middle son suggested a group called Mandolin Orange, and I became a fan. My iPhone, however, has recently decided that after an album finishes, it will introduce me to similar music in that same genre. So here I am, mowing, listening to my music, and it changes. It is still similar to what I like, so I keep mowing. A song by Jason Isabelle is playing. Honestly, I can say I do not know him. The song title is weird, “If We Were Vampires.” The chorus hit me hard. I cut off the mower and went to my front porch to sit and listen again without the mower running. I had to look up the lyrics. Perhaps it was reading about a friend passing just before I started cutting grass. It might have been thinking about my wife Pat, whom I married forty-five years ago. I am not sure, but I was crying.
“It’s knowing that this can’t go on forever; likely, one of us will have to spend some days alone.
Maybe we will get forty years together, but one day I’ll be gone, or one day you’ll be gone.” Jason Isabell
Words to a song can impact us, perhaps opening up memories and forgotten pieces of our lives. The intellect and the artist in us intertwine, intersect, and blend our soul’s avenues. I read more in Walking on the Wind and finished mowing with this song stuck in my head. We live life so flippantly and waste precious moments. I thought back to friends lost over the years and my father and father-in-law, whose birthday is coming up. I thought of my mother when she lost my father nearly fifteen years back and then my mother’s passing. I shared with my granddaughter that I miss my writing spiders; they will be coming out soon as they get bigger. I am writing today with several dream catchers around me, reminding me of the web of life. We each merely strand on the web. I thought of the word synchronicity used by Carl Jung. I took my wife’s car to wash this morning and gas up. As I pulled off the ramp, a red-tailed hawk swooped by me. Ten seconds sooner or later, and I would have missed it.
“Wellness is harmony in spirit, mind, and body.” Carol Locust, Eastern Band of Cherokee, Harvard Educational Review
I read this line from Dr. Garett’s book from a list written by Carol Locust. It sounds so simple, but it is connected with the lyrics of Jason Isabelle’s song. Dr. Garett stressed that we need balance in our lives. I somehow seem to be drawn back to a yellow sticky note left on my computer screen over twenty-five years ago by my sixteen-year-old son. He was a big fan of Aerosmith, and the words he wrote were from a song on one of their albums. A young man had been severely injured in a car accident; he was close to all of us. I spent the night by his bedside, watching the monitors and holding his hand. Come morning, he was declared brain dead; he had always said he would be an organ donor and was taken for surgery to save other lives. I was hit hard that night, having three teenagers at home myself. I drove home from the hospital and sat at my computer to see this yellow sticky note.
“Life is about the journey, not the destination.” Steven Tyler, Aerosmith
These threads intertwine, being spun as I sit here writing. Savor the moments and time we have. I have a digital photo album next to my desk, and a spider web was on the screen as I looked over. A writing spider, it is amazing how life and our journeys interconnect. My dear friends, please keep all in harm’s way in your hearts and on your minds, and always give thanks, namaste.
My family and friends, I do not say this lightly,
Mitakuye Oyasin
(We are all related)
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