I had two pieces that should have been posted by now. Rather than publish, I killed them.
They sat around so long they gathered moss. One was about how a visit to the chiropractor ultimately predicted the illness I am now trying to cure. I went on about how I thought I was in such good physical condition, what with all the exercise and personal work I’ve been doing, I thought for sure the chiropractor would ask me to pose for X-rays for a brochure on spinal health.
Instead, the chiropractor asked if I’m being stalked by a scythe-carrying man in a dark cape. (Maybe I should have mentioned my five-hour-a-night sleep routine. I know that puts me to the front of the line to see the Grim Reaper.)
In a state of denial, I shrugged him off, proclaiming myself to be in good health. I paid my bill and cartwheeled out of his office. Two days later chest pain, headache, and a deep, phlegmy cough sent me crawling to bed.
Sometimes nature places a banana peel in my crazed path, forcing me to slow down. Meanwhile, leaves plummet to the earth, stripping the trees of their pretenses. The season shifts, suggesting the time is now to get certain things done before snow covers the landscape.
So I’m thinking, as I prepare for a string of days that will physically and mentally challenge me, that I need to better manage the other things of nature, the ruts, the holes, and the bees. I need to be stripped of my pretenses.
I’m taking a break, a really intense break free of books and computers and televisions and cell phones. For five days. So that I can sit in peace and face the mirror that is me. And hopefully, when this is all done, I will know how to accept the reflection rather than reinvent it, cover it up, or ignore it altogether.
I think the hardest thing to be is who you really are when you cannot hide behind props.
How brave are the trees to stand naked all winter.