An Essay A Day For A Year
By Roe
Day 64, March 4, 2012
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Today I was looking out my window at the beauty of Lake Tahoe California below me, and I felt appreciative of the magnificence of Nature. That sounds kind of normal I guess since the beauty of Lake Tahoe is magnificent, and of course it is typical to appreciate the magnificence of Nature. I often realize that I don’t feel appreciative often enough, of anything or anyone really, despite the fact that I feel appreciative a lot. For me appreciation feels like awe, I sense my world all around me, and I feel a deep sense of “wow”, that really impresses me. “I hold you in high esteem”, and “thank you”, I feel, about just about anything. The feeling of impressed wow-ness of high esteem that I am grateful for, condenses to appreciation for me.
Pretty much anything impresses me, and I hold most everything in high esteem especially the things maybe others overlook. “Hey creepy spider, good morning!” I say when I wake up. “I’m a big, bad human and I could squish you and ruin you and your night’s work you know!” Mrs. Spider is so arrogant and self centered that she doesn’t even listen to me or care about me or the fact that her very life is in jeopardy. When I look at her closely, and all those trips back and forth to make her elaborate hunting trap, all I feel is “wow”. If she were a ship laying phone lines on the Atlantic floor like her web, she would have to tow a hundred supply ships full of more phone line, there is just so much of it. Even if she manufactures her phone line, where is she getting all that energy and raw resources? She would still need to have boat loads of sticky spider silk goo to make that much web, and she must have to eat 100 flies to have the energy to make a web to catch one fly. “I’m so impressed Mrs. Spider!” I say. But she doesn’t listen to me. At least if I am valuing her artwork and giving her compliments, she could beg for her life. So I wiggle her web with the tip of me little finger, just to get her attention. For Mrs. Spider, that is like the dinner bell, and here she comes. If this were the academy awards show for the world’s most fear-less and fear-inducing creatures, I give the Oscar to Mrs. Spider. Of course her Oscar is a giant live fly, and to show her lack of gratitude she just grabs her award, and then entombs him for future dining. Mrs. Spider is the epitome of ugly, and even in ugly terms, she deserves a boat load of high esteem for how ugly she really is. When she crawls on me, I quickly realize that I am not as tough as I thought I was, and I force myself not to cringe or freak out. Mrs. Spider doesn’t even laugh at me or mock me for my clear inferiority, she just sizes me up as a new road to somewhere, or hunting platform, or next meal. How funny, she could get squished at any minute, yet I am being sized up for her uses. Wow. By the time I realize how impressed I am, and how much value I place in Mrs. Spider, I realize that I really feel grateful for her, and all her efforts. I really appreciate Mrs. Spider.
One of the saddest moments in my life is when I realize that my house has been completely overrun by Mrs. Spider and all her 400 kin, not to mention about 50 other species of things that no one wants in their bed at night. Sometimes the spider webs in my house are like snowflakes in winter, and I can’t go or look anywhere without interrupting some creepy, crawly thing that I remember being so impressed about. “Wow”, I say, “Now I have to evict all the things that I am so “wow” about”. That makes me feel sad. I’m sure that if you saw me taking so much time and care to find new and appropriate homes for all my creepy friends that have overrun my house, you would laugh at me. You may think that they don’t have the same rights and value as I do, and that since they are invaders and creepy and ugly and scary inducing, they don’t deserve so much care. But I feel sad to destroy their world. In fact, the creepy crawlies were here long before I arrived. I imagine myself spending 400 years digging the Panama Canal by myself with only a soup spoon, and while I am sitting back watching the first cruise ship pass, some giant ogre comes and fills in my canal with one kick, and then tosses me into South America without a thought. I wouldn’t feel appreciated.
I have a very old friend who, while traveling with me by road to Central America, announced: “The reason why Mexican cowboy boots are so pointy is so they can squish the cucarachas in the corners”. I thought that he was typically racist, and that made me feel “wow”. I found a large cucaracha that was in fact in our Mexican room, and that made me feel “wow” at the irony. Upon studying Mr. Cockroach, I felt “wow” for the same reasons as Mrs. Spider. Me and my friend then had a great philosophical conversation about cockroaches supposedly being able to survive nuclear Armageddon, and outlive us and our pointy boots. Wow. Eventually Mr. Cockroach walked into the “dead end” corner, and I thought “wow” at the pun. I quickly looked all around the room and realized that neither one of us had pointy boots. Wow, what a relief as o didn’t want to hurt Mr. Cockroach. I then went and placed my rounded travel sandal into the corner, and in fact Mr. Cockroach remained out of reach. Wow. Suddenly the Mexican inn owner came walking into the room with our bottled water, and when he noticed me in the corner appreciating my world and moment, he quickly apologized, and with his perfectly pointy boots, he squished Mr. Cockroach. Wow. My friend then laughed hysterically at the perfect play that unfolded before us. Wow. I quickly ran out of the room to hide my outrage and sadness of the loss of Mr. Cockroach. Wow. My friend then tried to explain in broken racist Spanish the Mexican man with the pointy boots how I was “different”, and they both just laughed at how weird I was. Wow.
I am so appreciative of Mrs. Spider and her friends, of dead Mr. Cockroach and Inn owners and hysterical racist friends, of round sandals and pointy boots, and of perfect plays that make me sad and outraged. It seems that I am appreciative of everything. And yet despite being appreciative of everything, I don’t feel appreciative often enough of anything or anyone. Thank you everything and everyone for being, and for being here. Thank you to Life, whatever and however and whenever it may be, I appreciate you. Wow.
yourpersonalmuse@gmx.com
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