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Time for a break, I thought, after four hours of sitting at my desk and staring at the computer, diligently working on the company catalog. Boring. Well, not that boring, but I’ve been doing it for six years so it’s getting kind of old. Luckily, the office is located in a wooded area and offers much in terms of wildlife to observe and enjoy. On my stroll around the building, I paused, watching a really big hornet (a three-inch mega one) fly over a puddle, hovering for a few seconds, then drop itself into the water. Dumb hornet, you’re drowning yourself for no reason at all!
But it didn’t drown. It started swimming instead, using its wings as propellers, pushing itself across the puddle until it found some land underneath of it’s six exoskeleton legs with which to pull itself out, and then fly to a nearby pine tree to dry off. Hornets can be angry and vicious critters, so I kept my distance but also took note to curb my own anger, which had been brewing due to the many demands that are being placed on me (although, many of them, I am placing there myself).
I decided to hang out by an area in the back of the building that is sheltered by trees, bracken and bramble (love to use those last two words, since it conjures up the image of walking through the faery-laced woods somewhere in Scotland, on a cold, crisp day, with billowing grey clouds threatening rain, and then hurrying along on the footpath to have that spot of tea with some biscuits in some cozy cottage).
Something small and black flew above me, landing on a tree branch nearby. Crash is more like it. Oh, look, it’s a Cicada! I rarely get to see them flying. I usually just hear them ‘chirp’ away in the summer, or find a dead one on the road, probably killed by a big hornet, just like the one that I saw earlier. “Hey Mr. Cicada,” I said out loud. “Mr. Nasty Hornet is flying around, so you better get the heck out of here.” Suddenly, it leaps onto another branch, and then clings on for dear life, as if it doesn’t know how to use its wings at all, or finds them cumbersome and strange. Maybe it just hatched and was out for a test flight? It might be dead by morning if the Hornet gets him, poor thing.
Cicada, Cicada, what message are you trying to relay to me now? Are some old friends popping in my life again? I suspect that is the case and ponder over this some more, wondering how to juggle all of my responsibilities, social life and long-term goals, goals that must be achieved, as they are my dream. Not an easy task. I hear a soft noise in the thick of trees to the right of me, and turn, searching for the source of the sound. A Raccoon? Yes, a Raccoon, and a young one too, ambling through the pine needles, sniffing the ground with its black nose. I rarely see them either.
Okay, so what’s going on here? Let’s see, Raccoon is a caretaker and often shows up for a friend of mine who does too much for others, leaving herself last on the list, therefore causing her self a myriad of problems, problems that I don’t want. Also, I cannot be anyone’s life raft, and I see that happening to me in various degrees.
So, obviously, I’m doing too much (Raccoon), and need to cut back on my social time (Cicada), so that I have time to pursue my important goals, therefore avoiding the anger (Hornet) that is brewing, which can be quite unpleasant if I let out (I tend to overreact or get passive-aggressive), though I rarely do that anymore, but if I keep it all inside, it will cause me other problems, like worry, depression and bad health. The cure? Do all of the above, plus take a vacation pronto, and don’t forget to take two aspirin and call myself in the morning.