When I was very young...

I had a lot of responsibilities as a child. One of them was to walk the dog. When I was six years old, this simply meant to walk the dog around the yard a few times each day. I look back, and maybe this was not wise as the dog was about 80lbs and I was not. However, it remained my job. I never looked at it as a burden and I don't remember complaining about it.
When we moved to England and got a new dog, this job grew. It seems so strange to me today as I keep my children in sight at all times. I walked my dog around the entire base. It was another way to meet people and make new friends. My dog was not just a dog, he was a solid black Chow. People all over the base nicknamed him "Bear" and everywhere we went, people wanted to pet him and say hello.
It wasn't long before we started walking off base. This was not a problem as I had an ID to get back on base. We just had to judge the traffic carefully as many cars were travelling over 60 MPH on the road we needed to cross once we left the gate.
That crossing was worth it. Just outside of the main gate was a very large forest. It was mostly Pines and Oaks and Ferns, but there were occasionally Fairy Tale style toadstools or mushrooms also. (I still find it impossible not to smile when looking at a red mushroom with white spots.)
We walked for miles each day and each time, we would stop at a clearing in what seemed to be the center of this forest. A large Oak had fallen and there were old scortch marks from what was probably lightning. This Oak was so large, that laying on its side, it was still taller than my hip. I would lean against it, rest and let my dog off of his leash. As I write this, I close my eyes and I can smell the damp pine needles underfoot and the moss on the trees. I can almost see each of the leaves of ivy and feel the large ferns brushing against my leg.
This forest was more magical than all of the stories I had read because each time I went, it seemed to be completely mine. It was silent and peaceful. Beatiful and serene. We walked miles in this forest without a care or a fear of who might be lurking, or what danger might await. About two miles from that clearing in one direction was the burial site of a Viking ship with mumified human remains for historical hikers. That's where I learned just how short people were hundreds of years ago.
Two miles in another direction was the site of very famous "crop circles" that suddenly appeared years after the infamous letter to the Pentagon from our Base Commander about UFO's. Then there was the main gate of a RAF Base, but at that clearing, there seemed to be no past, no future, no present danger. Looking up, I could see only the flecks of daylight. It was dim and peaceful as if the entire world had just been given a lovely filter. Not too bright, not too dark, not too loud. Just soft rustling as I walked. Occasionally a bird or squirrel.
I first walked into that forest 26 years ago, and I still have never found anything to compare. I find tiny snippets of these feelings in other things and I marvel at them. I am a rushed person. I am a busy person. I love my life and am grateful for the snippets. I think everyone has such a moment or place of sheer perfection in them. I think we hold those places in our hearts to remind us of the grace and wonder of this life. I am in Oklahoma now and must close my eyes in the quiet to imagine a clearing in a forest far away. Someone else may right now be closing their eyes to envision some field here. We all have our own views of perfection and bliss. One day, I will see, touch and smell my forest again. If I keep my eyes closed long enough, I also remember that in that clearing, I was closing my eyes and getting ideas for my next homework assignment, or trying to answer the unanswerable questions of life. Perhaps things have not changed so much in 26 years...

Magnifying glass

My daughter loves bugs.. She know so many odd details about bugs. She can explain the category of assassin beetles in a way that could actually make you like them. She is fascinated and speaks with such passion, that it is contagious.
Whenever one of my children has a passion for something, I do my best to create an educational opportunity. My daughter has tweezers, books, insect encyclopedias, a microscope, slides and a magnifying glass. She uses all of these things to learn more about bugs.
I saw her using the magnifying glass to examine every detail of a wheelbug a couple of weeks ago. I watched as she checked the number of legs, antennae, and other special characteristics that would help her to find this creatures name in her book. This bug is pretty interesting. It looks like it has a hard shell mohawk. It has a long straw like thing in the front. I also noticed that each part of this bug has a purpose. Every single microscopic detail has meaning. The long straw is actually a big part of how it came to fall into the assassin beetle category.
I'm always so intent on stepping back. I pride myself on being able to separate myself and see things from a distance. This is a skill I have learned to protect myself from sheer lunacy. I do it because sometimes it is too painful to see things from just one viewpoint. Often, stepping back reduces the madness. I cannot simply say, WHY?
Often, I see life as if people are looking through the magnifying glass trying to figure out from just the shape of that one leg, what the bug eats, where it lives, how long it might live. Yes, our paleontologist friends are making their best guesses about just one piece of the puzzle, but if we have the entire bug, and we are using a magnifying glass, we have an obligation to ourselves to use the magnifying glass properly. Just because it has mohawk, does not make the bug a rock star in the insect world. What a ridiculous assumption. Or perhaps if we simply compared that straw like apparatus to that of a butterfly, we would probably assume that this creature also drinks nectar from flowers. We would be mistaken. If we were trying to colonize the creatures, we would be mistaken enough to kill them.
My point is that if something is worth checking out, it is worth very careful and mindful scrutiny. If there is no possible way to do that, or to understand the information, perhaps it is wise to zoom out until the focus becomes more clear. There is beauty in examination, but unfortunately, examining something too closely and not thoroughly enough can lead to incorrect assumptions.
Sometimes we are simply not to know. This is the hardest of all for me to admit. I like answers. I find comfort in them. I think most of us do. Be wary of the unexamined life. I think we must examine ourselves more closely before anything else.
Do we simply ingest? Do we serve a purpose? The wheelbug eats garden pest bugs such as aphids. What are our defenses? Do we use them unnecessarily? Do I use them enough? The wheelbug has the ability to excrete a very stinky substance. Perhaps if it had, instead of trustingly climbing into a container, it would still be alive. What is my fate? Am I to live a long life? I wonder if the wheelbug knows that it will die before it has snowed. Each of us has unique qualities.. Some are more like butterflies, some have much more in common with the wheelbug. The wheelbug survives by injecting its prey and then waiting. The injection liquifies the prey from the inside, so that the wheelbug can eat through its "straw". It is what it is. But now that I know, I will try to avoid them as I do not want the stinky substance on me.
I have examined enough about myself to know that I believe there are human counterparts to the wheelbug. There are those who inject the poison and wait and then feed later. I know for myself, I do not want the stink on me, so I try to avoid them.