Cupidity

You know you want them, the polished, brilliant striations and glistening colors beckon, entice, and seduce the usually sensible frontal parts of your brain which take care of self-control and reasoning. Yet the candy-like appearance yodels gratification and temporary sweetness, something that we'd all better get before the other guy arrives over the horizon.  You want to eat them, solely, furtively, now;  but there is that paper the manufacturers have covered their asses with, "Do Not Eat The Rocks".

I purchased a set of polished rocks from the book club in order to expose the childrens to the wonders of geology and "look at this" amazement.  A paper of descriptives accompanied the selection of jasper and jade, with the warning at the bottom:  DO NOT EAT THE ROCKS.  Now, I will stand on the top of a ladder whilst balancing one foot on a bookcase; I will also eat something that has hit the floor under ten seconds, and drive a car whose muffler is no longer attached to the exhaust.  You gotta live fast, you see.  But eat a rock?  It never occurred to me that this was a frivolous platitude, nor a unique personal goal of not ingesting granite.  Who the hell would eat rocks?  Do I know anyone?

Yes.  Yes I do.  Children, who now deal with candy bars that cost $1.00 to $1.50 for a sweet that would have cost me a nickel back in the day.  Few of the rocks are rather stone-like, dull with a gritty surface; but some in the collection are high-polished floozies, just waiting for a kid to ingest one into their digestive system.  These rocks are masquerading as jelly beans, just waiting for one desperate child to hope that this cold mineral really is a Sugar Baby in disguise.  Ha. You thought we were rocks when in reality, we are delicious caramel drops and green jelly leaves.  Eat us, eat us quickly, before your mother comes into the room, grabs your ankles, and shakes you upside down like a piggybank at Christmas.

It was a macabre surprise that the company thought to put a warning of not eating rocks within the kit; and yet, there is truth.  I know children so determined not to miss opportunity that they would ingest  a rock if they imagined that their counterparts were also determined to have more than they.  I'm telling you, being a kid these days is harder in different respects, especially if you can't tell whether or not to eat the rocks out of an introductory kit of stone specimens.

Adults also have ideas that spin like Catherine wheels in illusionary beliefs; fired by tradition and hope, people slide sideways through narrow alleys constructed by peculiar ideology. The most soothing reassurance which can be offered is that no one is completely sane, we are all crazy in bits.  The best we can do is try not to wound each other with our shortcomings or unrealistic expectations, but to offer an open door, with a smile.  Name calling only reveals what you believe about yourself;  threats, "do as I say or you will suffer pain of some sort that you will not be able to prevent" usually backfire as the target retaliates not with fear, but with fight.  Go get 'em.

Last night I was reading in bed and noticed a dark blot in the crease between ceiling and wall directly above my head.  Uh-oh.  Glasses were not near, so I scooted out of bed and put my contacts back in, turned on the Big Light, and the black smudge became a spider.  Not the docile immensities that are banging on the screened windows in order to install a Spider City for the winter; this was one of the aggressive tough ones that would drop on me in the night and inject poison into my face.  What, what can I do?  It's too high up to swat or grab with a tissue, something with reach was needed.  Aerosol.  Hair spray.  That spider got Tresemmed with a coating of extra hold shine.  It glistened and being the nasty, bitey sort, was heaved ho into the next plane of arachnid existence.

It is mid-Autumn, a lovely time of year.  The trees in the city are just beginning to turn, squirrels are planting future caches of winter food.  Night falls sooner, chill evening air draws your jacket closer, real blankets are pulled from cupboards and given jobs.  Apples bring round tidings to carry in hand, a glad sign of the ending days; pumpkins, squashes, grapes, wines, and honey from local farmers are laid before our feet, a bounty to be enjoyed.  Stock up, put up, jar, dryer rack, or root cellar.

Sleep well, we are entering the time when our own human Circadian rhythm pulls us to bed earlier, as if we were hibernating.  Dreams of searching, looking for answers, realization or reflection come as stories to lead us into our deepest desires and finding out who we are.  Plunge forward; even though this season claims sleep as a supporting player, it is indeed a time for self-expression and change.  Nod through the seances of fall, breath in tannins, latch the door.  I am with you, ever.  Good night.