The Guilt That Should Stay My Hand

Sometimes I feel guilty for the mistakes I unknowingly make. Like the one I made with this guy. Something is killing the leaves on my little citrus tree. Slime is the most noticeable evidence left at the crime scene. The get slimed, and then they curl up around the prey trapped inside. I know because I often unwrap the green shroud for a peek at what is there. I am mostly left with a puzzled head-shake because fifty percent of the time there is nothing inside. There is evidence that something went on though. I didn’t know what to think when I found the dragon-looking caterpillar inside; asleep; digesting its dinner?

No matter. I tore away half the leaf before I put this new discovery on my knee and took photos. I forgot about being in my pajamas. I forgot about being wary of spiders. I forgot about the itchy okra. I just went.

It was supposed to rain again so I made a pact with myself. Said I would not bother getting dressed today. It did not that mean I couldn’t go outside between storms in my sleepwear. I know. I sat on a chair. I sat on my little gardening stool. There’s no telling how many weird things hitchhiked inside with me. The thing that mattered most was the discovery.

So. I got a close-up on my MacBook. See that clear coating that surrounds the ladybug? Makes me wonder. I wonder about a lot of what I see here, including the damages I might have by interfering, but not until after. Still I wonder: Was the ladybug there because she wanted to be? Was she molting? Was she hiding out? Was she dinner? She doesn’t look dead at all. Had some predator captured, killed, and was marinating her for a snack or something? Humans can be so silly at times.

I still feel guilty over this little death. She drowned because of me. I left a container on the patio one afternoon. It rained before I had a chance to bring it inside. It wasn’t until the next day that I discovered her. She drowned because of me. She’s not the first one I accidentally killed.

This little thing came with a something I rescued or investigated, and I didn’t see it until it was time to clean my desk. Of course I took photos. It wasn’t until later that I discovered she was alive. She managed to crawl onto my keyboard. So, what did I do? I took another photo. Okay, I took several before I rushed downstairs to find a paper towel to use to transfer her outside. By the time I got back she was gone. I think Minuet might have eaten her. Humans can be so silly.

Knowing what I know hasn’t stopped me from getting the shot. Take this moth. I never figured out how it found its way inside, but I managed to take shot after shot, while it flung itself against the glass door. Silly thing. I came to myself in time to save it from myself. I opened the door and shooed it to freedom. What if one of the doves saw it? And ate it? Silly human, me!

Know Your Enemy

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I check what grows each day. I search for enemies that invade and attack. It might take a little time, but I sit and stare until the enemy reveals itself. Then I make an assault. Sometimes I let my Therd Eye collect relevant data before I make a move. Like I did with this guy. I don’t have a clue to its reason for squatting. Not yet anyway, but it’s beautiful. Such lovely colors.

There’s nothing lovely about the Black Hole. It tends to eat up time. It tends to swallow colors. It tried to disguise itself as depression. It forced me to learn the difference between it and the Big D. The Big S (Sadness) piggybacks Grief and Mourning, and it can fool you into thinking loss has triggered an Episode.

It happened to me. Having come so far, it was heavier than the Big D, and it felt different. Its colors were different. It had a different smell. This came:

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See? Cartoons aren’t always funny, but who said they had to be? I saw this one as The Swallow. Pun came on its own. Sadness is blue. Light blue. Depression can be a deep purple, aubergine, gray, black, or full red. Full red is “Danger, Willa Robinson! Get help!” I have learned to examine my funks. The trick is being aware, remembering to examine myself–like doing a breast self-exam. And yes, a prostate self-exam. It doesn’t hurt to ask for another opinion. I did. I asked O-Bird about the differences between sadness and depression. Before I was better I never examined sadness. Anything less than even or up was the dreaded valley. My sister passed on the 5th of May. I have been sinking since then, and . . . Wow. I have to go draw what I just saw. Yes, it’s a cartoon. And yes, it might be humorous, but you can’t tell if I don’t draw it. But . . . I cannot know for sure if what’s eating me is something as bad as this . .

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. . . or is as simple as this . . .

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. . . unless I check it out.

Be well.

This Here Black Hole . . .

. . . represents the way I feel inside. This is how life look since my sister passed on: hollowed out, like a black hole, dark, empty, flat, surreal, unreal, introverted . . .

Caring about anything beyond the basic basics demands too much energy. More than I seem to have. It’s been two months but too often it feels like two days. It’s been long enough that I’ve forgotten the passwords to five of my seven blogs. Like I care. The old me would be in a major panic. The same old me doesn’t care right now. Maybe later. Or not.

I don’t have much that wants saying. My drawings aren’t funny or annoying. Since May 5 there have been few, and the ones that managed to break free are sad or moody. And we know how death and mourning are avoided like they’re catching.Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m the one who wants to avoid my sister’s passing and my own mourning.

WARMTH

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I think I need a new scanner. My colors are more vibrant than they appear here. Hmm.

Speaking of art therapy? Was leaving when the tail feathers caught my eye, and I heard myself inside my head. “Oh, wow. O-Bird is right. Look at that!” And, so I did. I stopped and I looked with all of my attention focused, but not crazy-staring. And this is some of what I saw:

My world might look/feel/seem dark and dreary–sad and weary–but I am here. It shows in the colorful tail feathers. The sadness, pain, and all the other too-personal-to-mention-in-public stuff can’t be hidden. The tree is only sparsely leafed. The grass isn’t all that green. The flowers are respectfully carrying on. They feel me. The BERD that is this limner still cannot look the world in the eye, but it is functioning on a basic level. The horse hair blanket is appropriate. It hurts but offers warmth and a degree of comfort. It’s all here. Everything is here.