Life in my indoor-outdoor house: frogs
There is a tenderness growing in me towards the living world. Last time, I wrote about my initiation with the deathdance of a moth. Truly that experience softened me to the insect world for which I’ve had a certain resistance. At night, the world changes. The plants give us oxygen and the insects come out. At my indoor-outdoor house, every night is different. One night when it was very hot it seemed a certain tiny biting insect was born and in abundance. Almost invisible, they nipped at my skin, like sand flies. When I tried to brush them off, the ones I killed left red smears on the pages of my book and skin. Another night, when there was rain, came a flurry of long thin winged insects into my office where there was light. They landed on everything and then congregated in the corner. Within the hour they had died and loose wings covered the floor. In the morning I swept them together and out the door.
Last night I had three frogs. Sweet little things the size of my thumbnail. One of them had this funny way of jumping which I tried to capture with my video camera but was unsuccessful, as every time he jumped he left the viewfinder frame. This one little frog, every time he/she jumped she did a 360 degree turn. It couldn’t jump straight, poor thing! I thought it must be dizzy with so much spinning. He would make his jump and when all legs were spread in mid-air he appeared spastic and then turned at least a full circle before landing. My heart went out to this little creature who didn’t jump straight. He/she seemed abnormal in a sense, and his strange way endeared him to me, the same as twisted trees do. Then I always remember and think…and so am I, distorted and twisted, and also lovable.
I loved having the frogs in my open air living room. I followed them around for a long time. I thought to release them to the moist ground as they do need water to survive and didn’t. In the morning I found one of the frogs dried and dead and I felt so sad. I’m crying as I write this. The sweet frog is gone and I am feeling and in relationship with the wonder and pain of the cycle of life. Things come, things go, and I am part of it. Like dance partners we meet, have a few turns together and then move on to the next. The temporariness of life touches me right through my pores and I choose to let it. Do I touch it, too? We will all pass. Me, the frogs, the twisted trees. My friends and companions here on the camino of Life. So can I love who I see? Can I embrace and release my daily encounters, each so varied? Meet, greet, learn, breathe, give thanks, bid farewell. Every moment. Every day. This excruciating, ecstatic world.
