I needed a downer. My body had ratcheted into code red, defenses up against the yearly assault from the tulips on the poplar tree, all systems working full-tilt to expel the enemy. Sneezing, wheezing, itching, weeping. One antihistamine dose and a 10-hour night of sleep later, I’m sitting in this fuzzy bubble of calm. My arms and legs feel like they belong to a gorilla, and it just doesn’t seem worth the effort to drag my body around from place to place. The world is coming at me through a veil this morning. But oh, the relief. I haven’t sneezed once yet today.
I try to tend to the allergies with nettle and plantain tea, mostly. But every once in a while, my body panics and assumes that the poplar tree is out to kill me. Then I need a little something else to calm it down so I can get on with my life. Thing is, I am in love with that blooming tree that brings my oriole here each spring, that opens green buds to reveal their tangerine hearts. Dangerous beauty.
Gratitude List:
1. Beauty all around
2. Honey Locust trees in bloom–honey vanilla scent hovering about
3. Sleep
4. Rites of Passage and Blessing: pre-school graduation
5. Plan B
May we walk in Beauty!
The beauty, the art, the power, the conflict, and the energy are in the balancing.
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same not seem
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Your tree is that ever-present paradox of life — how something that meets one need (beauty, meaning, shade, fresh air) can at the seem time keep you from meeting another need (breathing, sleeping, feeling human).
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Yes! Thank you for that extension. And if I get so caught up in the polarities–that it must be either beautiful or dangerous–then I live in a position of either victimization or of resentment. Of the person or the tree. . . Or the situation, perhaps.
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