Look to the Squirrel

It was approximately the twentieth spruce cone, the one that whizzed into the back of my folding chair, where I sat reading, that made it impossible to ignore the squirrel thirty or so feet above me. The cones were dropping closer and faster.

In a kind of rodent blitzkrieg, they hit the plywood table behind me with sudden cracks, boomed off my twenty-five year old Coleman stove,  skittered of the old lantern, snapped against the cement blocks around the fire pit, hit the log bench and the poplar side table just to my right. Most of them hit the rain-softened ground but from that height they still thudded. I began to count them, but because I was, at the same time, rereading Joan Didion’s “The Year of Magical Thinking” I lost count and gave up.

squirrelaxeI thought of moving my chair but didn’t out of curiosity of being hit. I was wearing a Vancouver Canucks cap which for some obscure reason may have gave me confidence, unwarranted of course, but confidence non-the-less.

 I wondered if this was the same squirrel I had tormented–that would be his reading–two years ago by greasing the metal pole that held up the bird feeder. I amused myself by watching him, if it was him, attempt the climb. After the fourth leap, leg-spin, and slide to the ground he sat on his haunches, looked at his front feet like a fielder who just missed a pop-fly, licked off a bit of the oil, and scampered away confused, and, I thought, humiliated. The bird seed was safe…for awhile.

“Payback time my friend,” says the squirrel.

It had to be over a couple hundred cones before he moved on. It was only luck and my cap that saved me from a dead hit. Bedsides the back of my chair, one ricocheted and hit my thigh without consequence.

But squirrels do squirrel things. And autumn, if not here, is on the way and the cones are ready at the tops of spruce. In a while Red-squirrel will be on the ground carrying, stashing and carrying again to his secret place under the cabin. The whole squirrel operation shows foresight, industry, and not a small amount of domesticity. I must take note.

Loving God and Neighbour

We once thought, in our juvenile righteousness, that loving God was enough. It was of course the greatest commandment. We even said things like, “Love God and do anything you want.” We thought the Augustinian quip clever and thought it summed up everything there was to being a Christian and a just person in the world. We had forgotten that the other command was “like it,” and so in effect, its equal.

When we became “liberal” we thought that loving the neighbour was enough. We talked long about caring for all people everywhere and we were sincere. We thought that good will toward the global village was everything that was needed, and that in spreading this good intent people would eventually wake up to their destiny as humans and live at peace.

But it turns out, I find as I age and wonder about such things, that we need both. Both equally and desperately. And that while we can understand the encapsulation of both “loves” in one or the other, both need equal emphasis.

Admittedly a generalization but worth consideration, is that Marxism, communism was the organized attempt at loving the “sister/brotherhood.” And North American capitalism, exposed nightly on most networks as clandestine expansionism, is the governed result of “One Nation under God,” and “In God we Trust.”

Loving the sister/brotherhood in the absence of a love of God leads to a dehumanizing control of a sister or brother. On the other hand, in the vacuum of fraternal love, “loving God and doing what you want” leads to raping the earth and the exploiting her people. Holding up one love command at the expense of the other is a form of idolatry. And the outcome is pretty much the same either way. 

Summer’s End

Summer’s coming to an end and people are revving up for fall. There’s fresh bitching in the coffee shop, I mean fresh. Corporations, companies, bosses, supervisors, are getting slagged. And the air is on the wrong side of chilly. And there’s no happy light ukulele music playing.

You can feel the thin blue rubber-band in your head stretch. You can see the yellow stickies gather for a frontal lobe assault. Don’t even ask about the paper clips. Especially those big black spring steel ones that can clamp a binder to the side of a desk.

leafinhand But like H.D.T. in Walden, I’m going to the woods for another few days. In these pre-trib days I’d like to see if it’s possible to enter this fall’s paper blizzard with the serenity of a Siddhartha bhikkus. And if not, maybe find a tunnel or a worm hole to January–where all the dropped reams and calls will be forgotten in the retreaded-hope of a “Happy New Year.” I’m not above the thought of losing a few months of my life for comfort.

That’s the plan. Walden woods. I’ll take the essentials–more than Thoreau perhaps. Fresh pumpernickel, old cheese, espresso, cigars, red wine, and tea for the evening. And books. Lamott’s latest. Music? James Taylor, Jessie Winchester and Jane Sibery are already there waiting in their old cassette jackets.bowingman

Just maybe, this head that’s losing more hair every day may surface. Just maybe this face that’s building a case for a fresh outbreak of humility, may turn toward a patch of sunlight and get struck in the eyes. And just maybe, the result might be a moment or two with a demilitarized heart.

Oh relief! Summer’s coming to an end but not everyone’s bitching. Across the room I saw a kindness, a smile. And now I hear a mournful Morrison tune. One that makes me feel happy in its melancholy corona.

Righteousness and Peace Kiss

 …righteousness and peace will kiss each other. (Psalm 85)

Righteousness is a word that probably needs a reclamation project behind it. But here’s a start: Righteousness is relaxing into God. It’s relaxing into the giver of creation, the giver of earth, body and soul. It’s the kind of relaxing that you might call love. And just maybe, you do love, because you find that God is the kind of God who wants to recline with you.

010521_mideast_04 Peace is a word we have a decent handle on. But let me try this for a definition: Peace is the pain you feel when you see some misguided brothers strap on bombs and walk into marketplaces. Peace is the sadness you feel for people who hate each other.Peace is the anguish you experience for both victimizer and victim, because both are your neighbours. Peace is the unexpected experience of inner travail over violence of any type. Peace is a kind of fatal freedom that dizzies you because you’ve been relaxing with God.

Righteousness and peace kiss each other in those times we love God and neighbour intently and equally. Maybe, with any luck, and a visit from grace and mercy, we might experience this kiss once or twice in our lives.

Technorati Tags: , , ,