Outlook? Out of Control

Either my Outlook is experiencing a serious malfunction, or my life is more out-of-control than even I realized.

Morning Run -- Here Comes the Sun (And I Say It's Alright?)

This morning's run was rushed, with anxiety and worry in hot pursuit, feet slapping the still-cool concrete.  I had to hurry, because I couldn't be late for an early-morning meeting with an important person to talk about a possible career shift.  That's nervous-making stuff for a measure-your-life-out-in-coffee-spoons person like me.  Then I came across these desert blooms, almost set ablaze by the rising sun.  Sun, sun, sun.  Here it comes.  In the valley of heatstroke, that's not necessarily a good thing.  But the beauty of the scene gave me a boost.  That, and I found another lucky penny.  Must be a sign.  Both lucky pennies came along in my suit jacket to my meeting.  Sure didn't hurt.



All Day Long?

Found this penny on my morning run, and I picked it up.  I'm holding my breath for the all-day luck. 

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!!

Application of Some Happy

I know my "Application of Some Happy" posts tend to focus on iPhone and iPad applications, but here's one for any woman who likes clothes and has a computer.  Have you tried the outfit maker tool on Boden's website?  Lots of fun.

Wednesday's Word -- Hobgoblin

Hobgoblin Hall, William Wordsworth's House

I love this quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson:  "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds."  Reminds me a bit of the definition of insanity as doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.

I must say that I have always taken some pride in my ability to be consistent -- even when the consistency lacks wisdom.  One foot in front of the other.  Or, keep swimming, keep swimming, keep swimming.

I'd love to talk about the meaning of the word "consistency," but the word I especially love here is "hobgoblin."  What exactly is a "hobgoblin" in the first place, and what does Emerson mean by linking it to "little minds"?

Hobgoblins are fascinating little creatures of folklore and myth.  They are said to be friendly, mischievous, troublemakers who love to play practical jokes.  I'm not sure if there are female hobgoblins, but according to tales I have heard, they are usually small, hairy elf-like men.  Strikes me as creepy, but they are typically found living in human homes, and (here's a redeeming quality), they do odd jobs around the house (like dusting and ironing) while the humans sleep.  Maybe after reading this, you are thinking of the house elves in the Harry Potter books.  It does appear that those creatures are at least loosely based on the lore of hobgoblins.  You can also find quite a few other references throughout literature and popular culture (e.g., I have memories of scary hobgoblins from my brothers' Dungeons and Dragons days back in the early 1980s).   In case you're interested, my favorite hobgoblin tale is The Stolen Child by Keith Donohue.

So what is Emerson saying?  Being foolishly consistent makes you a hobgoblin?  Hobgoblins are foolishly consistent?  Little minds are inhabited (or stolen) by hobgoblins?  (My little mind could use some dusting and ironing, so . . . .)  Based on my quick research, this quote is usually interpreted to mean that "little minds" (those unwilling to see reason) are afraid of change; they'd rather cling to foolish consistency.  To reach this interpretation, the word "hobgoblin" is read to mean a source of fear of trouble.

I agree with the sentiment.  Little minds would rather keep doing things the way they've always been done, even if there might be a better way.  But as I ponder on it, I don't think Emerson was using the word "hobgoblin" to mean scary, hairy elf.  Perhaps more of a trickster elf (like the famous hobgoblin Puck in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream).  The full quote, which comes from Emerson's essay Self Reliance is:

"A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines."  

If hobgoblin means something scary, then wouldn't Emerson have said (something like) change is the hobgoblin of little minds?  Instead, he said that little minds adore these hobgoblins (i.e., foolish consistency).  Yes, I think the genius of the quote is that little minds do adore their foolish consistency -- comfortable sameness that plays tricks on your ability to reason.         

Stamp River, Vancouver Island (October 2005)

And finally, here's a little metaphor for you to chew on.  Many years ago, I spent some time on Vancouver Island and took a short hike one day to see salmon swimming upstream at Stamp Falls.  The rangers there had constructed an interesting little contraption called a fish ladder.  This "ladder" doesn't have rungs but is a series of ascending pools that allow the fish to rest in little pools in between jumps.  This ladder makes the process of leaping up a waterfall a whole lot more manageable.  Watching the salmon leap was a thing of beauty.  But the most fascinating thing to me was how many of the fish refused to use the ladder.  Many of them instead insisted of making the journey the hard way, as the salmon for generations before had done.  Made me think about which of the fish were the foolish ones.  I suppose they were all headed towards spawning and death, in any event! But isn't that ultimately true for us all?