Being quarantined is a stark reminder of the tedium of living. Nothing seems to change, you start seeing things as measurement markers on a geologic timeline. There were ice ages that didn’t last this long. Something new, is that asking too much?
I walk through a local park. It’s really two parks, connected by a paved path through a heavily wooded area. It is a nice walk, one I’ve taken for several years. Sometime during this crisis, it seems like overnight, they erected giant totems in both parks. One day they were just there. I’m pretty sure the quarantine has altered the passage of time. One is a cardinal and one is a bumblebee. Something new, a fresh breeze blowing through a dusty existence.
It was, I felt, a good omen. I didn’t really have a reason, but it just seemed a sign of hope. I did a little digging.
In certain parts of Appalachia when someone dies it is believed that the bees should be told. The bees spread the news quickly and efficiently. Many people believe that if a bee lands on your hand it means money is coming your way. Celtic mythology holds that bees are the messengers between our world and the spirit realm.
Cardinals have been considered spiritual messengers for thousands of years. There is a belief that if a cardinal is trying to get your attention it is trying to deliver a message from a deceased relative. People believe that if a cardinal crosses your path it is a sign that a lost loved one believes that you need to set clearer goals and be more direct.
Ok, good to know.
On my fiftieth birthday, I got flowers with a note saying I was a strong, brave demi-centurion. When I told my mom (who has since left this place of wrath and tears) about it she said, “Well, you were never very brave.”
Thanks, mom. However, nobody ever knew me any better and nobody could say that with any more love than she did.
When I was younger, I had a reputation as a troubled young man and many in my family never thought I would make it this long. I would have bet good money against it. While visiting family one of my uncles remarked about how I had become “quite a sad sack” after my dad died. He congratulated me on what a remarkable turn around I had accomplished.
Of course, he gave a lot of credit, rightfully, to my wife. He had been close to my mom, and was proud of the man I had become. He laughed as he said it, and it was intended as a compliment. Since that visit, he has joined the choir invisible.
My family stood behind in spite of all my faults, with stoic resolve and a certain amount of good-natured ribbing. I’ve deserved it all, I put them through a lot of worry and sometimes a little expense. But, I’m not sure I want to know what these messengers from the other side want to tell me.
“Hey, good job not doing any stupid for a while.”
“Do you really think those socks go with those shoes.”
“About time for a haircut, yes?”
Not that I don’t deserve it, but if you can avoid it why not? I still like to see bumblebees and cardinals, they make me happy. I just don’t think we have all that much to talk about.
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