Metaphor

It’s possible to see the flowers over the weeds, and remember that weeds also serve a purpose.

It’s possible to know that chaos, enmity, greed, and the maleficent use of power are reining supreme, and also know that those of good will are also still here, continuing the work of uplifting humanity.

There is community, understanding, kindness, love, protection and an abundant life – without the need to dominate or control.

We can say no to those who would steal our peace and joy, and then create more peaceful and joyful spaces.

We can form collectives and our own economies and remove our money, our time, and our labor toward a government that has turned against the people it pretends to serve.

We can still love our neighbor, take care of the sick, and remember the abundance of the natural world and of helping each other.

We are making a choice. We have the power to change direction, to adjust, to create a world in balance and harmony.

We can have each others’ backs.

We do not have to accept lies meant to obscure corruption and abuse.

Will we?

Rabbit, rabbit! October feels like an appropriate month to open with a folklore-ish incantation. As I trudge my way into the dark months, October at least carries a supernatural mystique as the month ends with All Hallow’s Eve.

I enjoy the metaphor of the changing leaves; their often brilliant, sometimes muted, but always beautiful colors defiantly – or perhaps joyously – meeting their end. I hope to meet my death fearlessly and spectacularly! I’d rather not have anyone piling my body with others to jump in, though, or leaving me out on the lawn. Let the metaphor end with the flamboyant dying thing…

My favorite thing about October is Halloween and the excitement leading up to it. Two boys that I do occasional childcare for, and I, made construction paper Jack-o’-lantern’s the other day, and the older boy drew a skeleton that was quite good. He could be an amazing artist if he enjoys it enough to pursue it. The younger boy, always wanting to copy his brother, yet make it his own, drew a skeleton with a pumpkin head. The older boy started to criticize it, but I nipped that little dig in the bud, and told them how each one was unique and fantastic. I know that’s what older siblings often do to younger ones – I was a fifth child out of six – but I do not let slights go unchallenged. The younger one has enough gumption when encouraged to stick up for himself, but I also see how the older brother’s chiding affects his younger brother’s esteem. They know, with me at least, it’s fair play and helpful words, or time out.