The birds in my backyard are hopping about creating a ruckus doing their thing. Why do they always make their appearance, day or night, when I am beginning to nod off? (Has it ever occurred to you that you might be the one whose circadian rhythm is out of whack chides the mind?) And why do they have to be gregarious – seven sisters or is it seven brothers? I can never remember what they are called. My eyes blur over the page that I’m reading and I keep the book and my glasses aside (not always). I fall into a short dreamless sleep (if I’m lucky else REM sleep it is), a nap if you may, right where I am else the spell will be broken.
In life the same lesson keeps on coming at us in different shapes and sizes, not like a song played on a loop but like variations of the same theme, until we get it. Why don’t we get it sooner? We seem like sensible people. Or so I was led to believe and now I’m doubtful.
We can’t get away that easily. At long last I have understood there is a difference between walking away and running away. And you must have realized I am not talking about physical activity here (are you not seeing how hot it is and in April too!) though that is essential to keep the joints in tip-top shape. Or so I am told. Run along then.
eternal oxymoron 