Out in the Puckerbrush

So I'm reading Life Of Pi.  I resisted reading it for a long time until Charity finally plopped it in my lap.  I hate to admit it but I shied away because it deals with religion.  I've had my fill of religion and am still not hungry for more.  I'm completely content on my religion fast and didn't want to break it.  But alas, everyone I've overheard speaking about it contends that it is a "Good Book" so what the hay.

Granted I'm only about 50 pages into it, but the author retells a story with a concept that was so strikingly simple to me and yet it had never been explained to me in such an eloquent way.  Although the concept *should* be quite elementary, most people don't look at it from this side of the looking glass.  Freedom.  What is freedom?  Half the time I hear people say things like "free as a bird" or "free to do what they want."  But really, is there such thing as total freedom?  Animals, just like ourselves, MUST be bound to certain routines, confines, environments, social networks, and mind sets in order to survive.  That analogy of running into an apartment building, flinging open doors and shouting, "Get out!  Get out!  You are FREE!" really put the concept into focus for me.  Believe me, I felt a little foolish for not pulling this concept into a focused clarity before I read those passages in Life of Pi, but there they were.  And here I was, having a bit of an "AHA" moment.  So many people want some type of freedom, but the sad (and yet reassuring) truth is that there is comfort in confinement.  There is comfort in routine.  There is comfort in solid concepts.  Sure there are people that like to, "fly by the seat of their pants" but I'll bet that there is some portion of their life that they can count on to remain mostly the same.

Me?  I like solid ground under my feet.  I like having control in my little world.  I like my little freedoms during the day.  I have OPTIONS, CHOICES, and sometimes even TIME LIMITS (gah!) but still there are always little freedoms.  Sometimes, it is good to look at things with a micro eye instead of a macro frown.  I may not have total freedom, but within the comfort of my life I have many little freedoms.  And also, ironically, I have a little less guilt in enjoying zoos . . .  read the book and you will know what I'm referencing :)

In a day and age of instant gratification it has become increasingly easier to focus on the negatives of a situation.  Optimism is a struggling weed in a forest of pessimism and reality.  I've never been an optimistic person, not in the broad sense, but I feel I'm more of a realist.  However, in light of my current place in the universe I find myself bubbling with thankfulness for so many things.  I'm thankful we have a roof over our heads, food on the table, able to pay our bills (mostly anyway,) have a healthy wonderful baby boy and are fairly healthy ourselves.  We have two cars, a barn full of animals and a home full of furry critters as well.  I get to knit from our own animals and I have a laundry room in my basement.  I'm thankful that we have a king size bed and that I have a walk-in closet.  I'm thankful for the peace on our property and that 2 out of 3 of our neighbors we love.  I'm thankful I'm in the mountains of Maine where you can see the stars at night and breathe fresh air.  I'm thankful I can take a nature walk whenever I want to and it is a true nature walk and not a groomed trail (although those are very nice too and certainly have their place.)  I'm thankful for a lot of things, vastly more things than I'm regretful for in truth.  I do regret being so far from my family.  That is probably the biggest one.  Will I ever be closer to them?  Probably not, unless they move up here, but hopefully in the future I can travel to them more often.

It is so very easy for me to be shaded in the canopy of pessimism (I'm a realist damnit!) that sometimes it is nice to walk out into the sunny glade of optimism.  Even if it is forced in the beginning, it isn't an uncomfortable sweater to wear.

*tells in a hushed voice* It was early morn, the sun was nigh on the horizon when the brave mum, who had fought diapers all through the night finally opened up her latest catch. She gasped and shied away, grabbing handfuls of baby wipes and breathing through her mouth. She wiped furiously, GAH some got on her hand, ... and on the babes feet! GAH!!  She furrowed her brow and thought, "this is a 50 wiper for sure," as she dove back in, wiping in great swathes across the babe's bum. Finally, the diaper was defeated, all stretches of exposed flesh were clean. Sure remnants of the fight were evident on the changing pad but the mum wiped a strand of hair off her forehead and nodded her head. It was a good fight.