The philosophic and Experimental would soon be at the ratio of all things,
And stand still,
Unable to do other than repeat the same dull round over again.
I’m looking outside my living room window and I can’t believe how many birds are out there. Purple finches, evening grosbeaks, white throated sparrows, crows, blue jays, hummingbirds, pine siskins, chickadees, goldfinches, and others that I can’t name.
Meanwhile, the largest wild fire in Nova Scotia’s history is burning bright. And, not far from here, I believe they are doing some clear cutting.
Only a few mornings after Sue’s disappearance I had a choir outside my window. A large alder bush was covered in blue jays singing their blessed little hearts out. I approached them and they stayed put. I couldn’t help but think that I was getting a peek through the invisible veil.
I feel responsible though. I’m a human being and the partying birds are, in our scientifically harsh views of the world, to be controlled. They are a resource. We’re even considered a resource. Aren’t we doing a good job.
So, the birds are out there, singing their hearts out, while clear cutting is rampant, wild fires burn, politicians push for more oil production and many animals border on extinction. Because, of our hell-bent attacks on nature. But we know best. We interfere and think that we are helping.
A little bird, a chickadee, told me that it’s all ass-backwards and we should butt out and let them enjoy their happy chow-down time.
“How do you know but every Bird that cuts the airy way,
Is an immense world of delight, closed by your senses five?”
I have found that people who are grieving can recognize others who are grieving. I run into many who are dealing with grief. They are kindred spirits and I’m thankful for encountering them in my life. We don’t need many words.
You see, it’s not easy for me to understand how I can not talk while I have food in my mouth. What if it’s hard to swallow and somebody has just told me something and is now waiting for a reply. Do I just keep chewing until I can swallow the food, do I spit it out or do I talk while my mouth is full? Am I being neurotic?
Another time, Sue and I visited her relatives. It was one of the first visits to their place and Sue wanted them to think highly of me. She wanted me to have good manners. To not choke, talk with my mouth full or do other things that she knew was hidden in my eating mishap bag. I pulled out a new twist to my eating out behaviour.
I said, “Why am I the only one with a napkin?”
The answer was, “Because ours are on our lap.”
Poached eggs was on the menu. I love poached eggs. During the meal I couldn’t help but be impressed by how well the other two breakfasters were able to eat. They spilled not a dribble or a crumb onto the table.
At the end of the meal, the table cloth under and around their plates was void of crumbs, egg bits or spilled liquids. Not my place.
Recently, I went out with a group of people. I ordered fish and chips. Two of us got our food on square plates. The other three got round plates.
Now, that wasn’t such a big deal, because there were five of us, and I could, for the most part, just keep my yap shut and concentrate on not spilling or dropping.
However, within a minute, of getting my food, and I’m saying a minute, one of my fries ran away from my fork and hit the deck, one fell onto my lap and while I was trying to pick them up, I was told by an observer that two of my carrots had jumped ship.
For some reason, my plate kept rocking and rolling when I was digging into my door with my fork and knife. Every time I pressed down on the plate it would do a rocking horse movement. So, the whole meal people could hear the click, click of my plate. Click, click, click. It was as if I were playing the bones. Everyone else’s plates rested solidly on the table.
Or hotdogs at a gas station. How the hell do you get the relish, mustard and ketchup out of those little packets. I’m afraid if I try to open them with my teeth my partial will fall out. So, I usually have a bare naked Weiner in a bun.
There’s just too much to remember when I go out to eat.