CHANGING TIMES

I woke up this morning at 6:30, my usual time, and as I drank my cup of coffee I looked out of the patio door. The sky was still inky black but the full white circle of the moon hung just above the horizon. We are sliding into the dark side of the year and next weekend will again institute daylight saving time, an extraordinary exercise of consensual agreement in a falsehood. For the next five-plus months we will all pretend it is earlier than it really is.

For the last month I have been deeply involved in painting and have chosen not to do much writing. Right now I am waiting for a new shipment of rice paper to arrive and feel at loose ends – not willing to undertake a new project, yet not finished with current work. In the last few days I have several times begun a new post but could not gain any traction in subject or direction. Therefore, I have cast both prerequisites overboard and decided to doggy paddle.

I went to the park this morning, something else I have not done for a while. As I sat at one of the picnic tables I saw six wild ducks circle and land in the small stream and a ‘flock’ of squirrels busy hunting and storing nuts. I have been yearning of late to live in an environment where nature was a little closer, where the occasional rabbit or deer might walk by or drop in.

As I pondered this I noticed out of the corner of my eye a young woman approaching. She wore a black skirt, bright pink top and sunglasses. Her long blonde hair complemented her wide smile and perfect teeth.  “I saw you sitting here and wondered if I might share a few verses of the Bible with you,” she said. I have always admired the courage (is that the right word) of the missionary. I would find it very difficult to go up to a stranger and pitch my beliefs – too much ego I guess, or fear of rejection.

She must have thought I looked lonely sitting by myself on a park bench at 8 in the morning so she chose a verse from Revelations about the coming end times and how when it was over all our tears would be wiped away. I nodded when she asked if she might leave me a copy of Watchtower. There was a   picture of a medieval tower on the cover with lightning bolts shooting out.

It reminded me of the 2012 Mayan prophecy that is all the news now.  The Jehovah Witnesses and other fundamentalists have been singing that hymn for a long time. Will anything happen on December 20? Are we living in end times or on the cusp of a great awakening?

While I can believe that our solar system is astronomically passing in a direct line to the galactic center of the universe (according to science), and I can believe that this passage may zap new cosmic rays into our genetic and electrical energy bodies resulting in a new level of consciousness (a la metaphysics), I do find it hard to believe that any great change, or new world order, etc. will emerge as a result. The horrors of the 20th century did not deter man’s aggressiveness, nor re-educate his thinking, so I doubt that the bombardment of intergalactic energies will make much difference.

Until Armageddon arrives I will turn my attention to the small and the present. My little Russian neighbors upstairs are up to something but due to our language barrier I am not sure what. I saw their daughter carrying folded cardboard boxes to their apartment the other day and wondered if they might be moving. This morning I saw both the Mr. and the Mrs. carrying filled boxes downstairs; however, they were not loaded in their car. What are they up to?

The thin hippy lady above me is complaining about someone smoking in the building which is bothering her allergies. She is enlisting the neighbors to track down the culprit and shame him into abstinence. My friend Gina of the tiaras has been fighting with her parrot Zorba who likes to steal her slippers and chew the carpet. Diane the constant complainer has turned her attention from the medical establishment to the apartment managers who have not reprimanded Diane’s upstairs neighbors for their noisy behavior.

And finally, Sweetie Pie. Last night as I was reading, my cat came over for her before-bed petting; about three in the morning she demands a mid-sleep tune-up. Sweetie Pie rarely leaves the patio to explore the yard and during the day she sits/sleeps as close to me as possible. I realized today that I am her whole world, her only real contact with another living creature. I am touched by her dependency.

So until my consciousness rises to new levels I will continue to bumble along as best I can, dealing with the small and inconsequential and leaving the weighty matters of galactic destinies to others.

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