Monday's Metaphor -- Pondering the Puddles

Came across this path of puddles on a recent morning run after a desert night-time storm.  I love how the trees and sky are reflected in what the storm left behind.  Looking DOWN at the puddled ground soaking up through my running shoes reminded me to look UP at the clear, glorious sky above me.

Made me reflect on the fact that the storms of life often leave lingering remnants.  But also that those storm puddles offer lessons (and hope) in their reflections.

Waiting for the Fun to Start

I often find this cat sitting patiently by his favorite ribbon, just waiting for the fun to start.  I could use some ribbon movement in my life too.

Hope your ribbon is flying (in a happy way).  Have a great holiday weekend!

No Rest for the Weary

Some days, don't you feel like everything inside you is pleading to PARK, or at least stop for a minute and unload? 

  

Monday's Metaphor -- Battle of One

This is my daughter's Betta (fighting) fish.  Faced with his own reflection, he goes into fight mode, flaring and puffing out his gill covers.  Some days don't you just feel like you're your own worst enemy?

Catbird Seat

A hovering hummingbird caught my eye on my morning run.  I often see them, but they flit and fly off in an instant.  This one was staying put (well, as much as a hummingbird can do), and there wasn't even any honeysuckle in sight.  Curious.  I stopped, trying not to make a sound. 

Bird still hovering. 

Slowly, I removed my iPhone from my pocket and readied the camera. 

Bird still in place. 

Click, click, click. 

Bird still here. 

Then I took a closer look.  Unbelievable.  My jaw dropped.  There was a sneaky cat, desert-colored head peaking up over the wall, eyes round and piercing.  Brings new meaning to the phrase "sitting in the catbird seat"!  I stood there for about 5 minutes, barely breathing.  That hummingbird flitted all around the cat (high on its wall-perch), coming several times within paw's reach.  But the cat just watched. 

As I look at the photos I captured (this one, for example), I have to wonder whether the cat was more interested in the hummingbird, or ME?  A bit creepy, but I love this shot -- cat with eyes locked on me.  Hummingbird flitting teasingly in cat's peripheral vision.  Where do I even start with the metaphors here!!

Monday's Metaphor -- I Lost My Child

Came across this abandoned sippy cup on a run and couldn't help but wonder about its missing child.  Made me think about the parts of ourselves we lose along the journey.

Monday's Metaphor -- Ready? 1. 2. 3. BITE!

Meet my nemesis the fire ant.  Looks harmless enough, but these little guys pack a powerful punch.  Here in Phoenix, they come out in force this time of year.  Mostly you'll encounter them outside, but sometimes they make house visits.

The other night, I fell asleep at around 8:30 p.m. while putting my youngest to sleep (typical) and woke up around midnight.  I stumbled to my office for a night shift of lawyer-ish work (also typical, unfortunately).  Sitting at my computer, I felt a sharp (and too familiar) sting.  Reacting with all the kung foo-like skills I could muster, I smashed a  fire ant on my right foot, but was bitten in unison by about five of its friends.  Most of the bites were on my toes and feet, but one actually reached my thigh when the message to BITE was broadcast across the ant waves.  I looked down to the floor and found hundreds of the little beasts swarming under my desk.  It's truly a miracle that I only received six bites.  I ran for a can of bug spray and used nearly the whole can to annihilate the whole bunch of them (gentle vegetarian, animal-lover that I am).

The miracle is even more dear because I'm severely allergic to fire ants.  I believe this is due to an unfortunate childhood experience that involved me sitting on a whole colony of fire ants, resulting in "ants in the pants" in the most literal way.  That's the thing about the venom of these things, your reaction gets worse (not better) with each subsequent encounter.  Ask me sometime about the time I was bitten by fire ants ON MY LIP.  The night before an oral argument in court.  I certainly wasn't going for the collagen-lip-injection-gone-awry look, but that's what I got.  And I looked that way in front of a judge on a really important case.  Good times.    

Back to my point.  So here's the amazing thing about these tiny bugs.  If you find yourself in their territory (or they decide to invade your territory), they will climb into your shoes and up your legs as a group.  They then send a signal to inform the entire group when to sting so that they can have the maximum impact possible.  How do they do that?!  I don't know, but I'm struck with how the stings of life often seem to come in unison as well, like a well-timed but cruel group effort of all that is bad in the universe.

Monday's Metaphor -- Gutter Glory

The winds are blowing in the heat of summer, and I'm grieving over golden grove un-leaving.  {Well, actually the palo verde trees formerly ablaze in golden splendor are reverting to green sticks.}

This sight left me thinking on the one hand about how fleeting the truly glorious moments in life can feel, but also how there is beauty to be found everywhere -- even in the gutter moments of our lives.

That and that, and also that there is a time and season for all things.      

Monday's Metaphor -- Fruit of Your Labors

This tree grows outside my kitchen window.  In other words, I spend a fair amount of time looking at it.  We have lived in this house for less than a year, and so the tree and I are foreign to each other.  I've been amazed to observe its transformation from dead-looking-thing to vibrant-lush-nothing-can-stop-my-growth-thing.

This tree is covered with some sort of growing fruit that I have not been able to identify.  I call it the "mystery fruit," and my children and I check it periodically, poking and squeezing and sniffing to try to classify it as something familiar.  For now, we will wait and watch.

Sometimes your life's efforts (too) will produce unrecognizable fruit.  Wait and watch.  Watch and wait.

Monday's Metaphor -- Surprised by the Consequences

September 9, 1974
Blue Ridge Mountains, Virginia

My parents snapped this photo of me many years ago, just moments after a goose bite incident.  I was one month shy of two-years-old and so indignantly surprised that the goose I was harassing actually decided to give me what was coming to me.

Sometimes in life when I'm astounded by obvious consequences that are nobody's fault but my own, I think of this photo and smile.  

Monday's Metaphor -- Open Trench

So many of my metaphors find me while I'm running.  I (literally) almost tripped over this one.  I've joked that I'm going to silkscreen the sign I wrote about here on a baby t-shirt, but I can imagine wearing this one emblazoned across my own chest:  OPEN TRENCH.  I know it's not Wednesday (and this isn't one of my Wednesday's Word posts), but indulge me.

The metaphor is probably obvious to you (because you too have likely had your heart carved out at some point over the course of the cruel days that sometimes make up our lives), but it improves with some dictionary help.  A trench is a "deep furrow or ditch."  Indeed, the word comes from a root meaning "to cut."  Trench may also be defined as "a long narrow ditch embanked with its own soil and used for concealment and protection in warfare."

Sometimes when your insides have been carved out from within, the remaining cavity at least provides a hiding place.  Caution advised for passersby.

The Metaphors, They Find Me

I'm out of town and out of pocket this week, immersed in a week-long leadership training course at the Kellogg School of Management at Northwestern. Fascinating stuff. Spent the day getting at least a flavor for what it would have been like to go to business school.

On a break, I literally made a run for it -- down along a path that hugs the lake. It was blustery, cold and gray -- and lovely. What to my glazed over eyes should appear, but a flock of kites, trapped in the air. I stopped in my tracks and was blown away (blustery, I tell you) by the symbolic significance--at least to a metaphor hunter like me. About a dozen kites caught in a stand of leafless trees, blowing in the wind, but going nowhere. Abandoned. So vibrant against the lifeless gray sky and yet-to-leaf trees. Took my breath away.

Ever feel like a trapped kite against a lifeless backdrop?

Monday's Metaphor -- The Hunt

"I Don't Like the Sound of This" ,
Michéle Brummer Everett

I have a metaphor wall at home.  (Are you surprised?  I didn't think so.)  On this wall hang various paintings, prints, and drawings that have some metaphorical meaning for me.  Sometimes I will stand, staring at this wall to brace myself against the circumstances of the day. 

Here is one item from my metaphor wall.  It depicts a hunter holding a leaf in hand, with a bear on his back.  The print is captioned:  "I Don't Like the Sound of This."  Here's the artist's description:  "A mighty hunter and his favourite bear friend come across a suspicious leaf in the forest. Whatever he's saying, our trusty bear is NOT buying it!"

Now here's the beautiful thing about art.  It can mean whatever I want it to mean.  For me, I look at this print and am reminded that the thing I'm hunting for may already be on my back.  Or some days, I take it to mean that transition (the new leaf) can be a scary/suspicious thing, even to a bear and a mighty hunter.  Both metaphors apply in my life.  Yours too?

Monday's Metaphor -- Gravity

Snapped this shot on a recent morning run and couldn't help but see the metaphor in it.  Sometimes if you can't grow upwards, you can at least grow sideways for a while.  Some stretches in life are (by necessity) more lattice than ladder.

I love how this tree is thriving despite its current direction.  For goodness sakes, it's growing parallel to the ground instead of reaching for the sky.  But it's not giving up.  I can relate.

Monday's Metaphor -- Lost

Found these ducks far from water, practically knocking on the door of a friend's neighbor.  When I came close to snap a photo (really close because I only had my iPhone), they didn't even try to flee (or flap).  Instead, they looked at me, raising their ducky bills in defiance, and quacked as if to say "Go ahead.  You try the door.  We're telling you, no one's answering." 

Made me think about how "duck out of water" I've felt lately.  Sometimes, in life, you just have to admit to yourself that you may be knocking on the wrong door, don't you think?

Also made me think about this old duck story. 

Have a good Monday!

Monday's Metaphor

The Flower Fields
Carlsbad, California (April 2011)

Sometimes, you may find yourself out of sync with your surroundings.  Might not be a bad thing.