I’m staring out
at the thick-leaved cherry tree. The breeze catches the edge of a leaf, and
spins it into an unrecognizable shape.
The Bully makes loud
and unreasonable demands of a Stranger in a confined public space. Those who
only hear the Bully’s words make an enemy out of the Victim. Those who can hear
the entire conversation feel deep empathy, even fear, for the
Stranger-Turned-Victim-Turned Friend.
It might be “compensation”
but it is not “balance” to face a polarized view by standing on the opposite
side, well-entrenched in the duality. It is possible that the arduous climb to
the center is where balance lives. This is not mediocrity; it is equanimity.
I am stuck in a
sharp edge within myself, crafting justifying stories that only make me feel
worse. I decide: what if I didn’t care so
much about that? And suddenly I feel the smooth, cool, polished surface of
a curve where the prickliness just was.
One person
marvels at a thriving hive of life; the others see infestation.
Standing at the
bureau donning undergarments, I wish for abiding silence. Suddenly I realize
that there is a cacophony of different bird songs entering the room. It is the
opposite of quietness but as welcome and healing as the longed-for hush. I walk
to the open window, which is enshrouded by the canopy of that same cherry tree
from a prior stanza, and I am eye to eye with a chickadee and some other
feathered body I cannot identify. The screen is the only thing standing in the
several inches between eyelash and feather.
There is such a jagged,
skeletal, and fragile line between Not-Knowing and Knowing. Like the thin veil
between life and death.
Opening the
front door, I bump into an unexpected wall of sea-scent. It turns my attitude
one hundred and eighty degrees from anxiety to peace. Though they are not
mutually exclusive like that.
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2016 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."
