Having the freedom to write about practically anything I want to is such a gift. It allows me the time and space to contemplate and focus on what is really important and ponder how it relates to what is going on in our day-to-day lives. Exploring the interrelatedness of all things leads to many questions and perhaps a few answers. Through this process I’ve become aware that there are no absolutes, not really. Everything is shades of gray—with some bright spots of color here and there.
Benjamin Franklin stated, “In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.” In our current reality this seems to hold true. However, the lens with which we view the world varies, from person to person as well as from the choices we make for how we look at any given thing. And that can be up to us.
I’ll start with taxes. Most of us pay them over and over and over again. Others don’t, either by opting out of society all together, or are so poor that it’s not required, or are so wealthy that they can harness enough legal (or illegal) power to rise above the system, but I’m not here to talk about taxes.
Then there’s death—with its many faces. Right now we are facing the death of summer, the end of our children’s vacation as they go back to school. Many look forward to it, but I certainly did not. I felt like a part of me was dying when school started again in the fall. Summer always had the feeling that time stopped, providing the space where endless opportunities could be revealed.
Expiration dates. Credit cards, coupons, sales events… These things also die. As does our interest in the items we purchased with them. But that leads to another story.
The end of our life here on earth can feel like the ultimate kind of death. It’s heart-wrenching for those of us left behind when a loved one departs. And obviously scary, sad and confusing for the one checking out.
I visited my dear cousin who’s on hospice now. She’s still communicative, caring and friendly. She hides a lot of her anguish and anxiety, but it still comes through. Of course, tears come and go every day, and she wrestles with this. In spite of being comforted by her religion, she’s fearful, and rightfully so.
There can also be a kind of death of ideas, or assumptions, that no longer prove to be true. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we would each own up to the possibility of being wrong at the first inkling of doubt? Or maybe even prior to that—since it’s all shades of gray anyway. Just a thought.
With the unwavering heat this summer, every thing and every one seems ready to snap. That’s what happened last night when a huge eucalyptus limb fell across our driveway, barely missing my car. Last week, a tree trimmer, commissioned by SDG&E, called and told me they needed to trim nine oak trees on our property. I explained how they had already done the work three months ago. After supposedly checking with his supervisor, he said that because it’s on the work order he needed to do it. I’d learned from a tree specialist that summer is the worst time to do this, so I responded.
“These old oaks are thoroughly stressed with the heat and lack of moisture. Cutting now would further stress them. Feel free to call back after it cools down and we get some rain.”
Hopefully he’ll look back over the records and find that the work was already taken care of. Someone has to protect our beautiful ancient oaks. I don’t want their death on my hands.
Dinosaurs experienced a massive death—extinction. Many species have followed suit and many more are on the endangered list. Some of these deaths are within our ability to prevent. Protecting them protects us. Life comes full circle. After all, everything is interrelated.
Chi Varnado has published six books including fiction, nonfiction and children’s books. They are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com.
She is available to adults and children for fun tutoring in writing.