Michael Robert Dyet's Blog, page 42

Metaphors of Life Journal: The Long Exhale as I Rise to Springs Beckoning

Hmmm, it is coming again and I am so very ready for it.

We are three days away from the first day of spring. Mother Nature does not necessarily observe these manmade official changeover days for the seasons. Winter will still hold court for the next couple of weeks and may sneak in a last gasp in early April. But my thoughts now turn to the coming season of winged wonders.

Early spring is waterfowl season. In a couple of weeks, I will make my first trip to the lakefront, after hibernating for the colder months, in anticipation of rafts of ducks and grebes feeding in the bays and along the shorelines.

Anticipation grows as I pull into the parking lot of Colonel Sam Smith Park. I feel the weight of winter beginning to lift from my shoulders as I gear up for the day with binoculars around my neck, field guide in my pocket and backpack on my back.

My itinerary for the day is inscribed in my brain by long practice. I am unapologetically a creature of habit. I have been visualizing this day and the route I will follow for several weeks. I will not vary my path because it is a ritual to which I am wedded.

I head down the paved trail observing Starlings, Red-winged Blackbirds and American Tree Sparrows in the thick bushes. Perhaps a Crow perched on a larger branch surveying the area or an early Cormorant gliding overhead.

A quick detour onto the observation deck of the shallow pond turns up puddle ducks – ubiquitous Mallards, ever present Gadwalls and perhaps a flat-billed Northern Shoveler or two – mingling with Canada Geese and Mute Swans in a communal habitat.

Back onto the pathway, I head toward the east bays as Tree Swallows dip and dive overhead welcoming me back. Chickadees flit through the trees with their distinctive springs-here breeding season call. Robins are moving about and Brown Creepers spiraling down branches.

I hear the distinctive yodeling call as the large bay comes into view and my anticipation quickens. There is nothing more reliable than what I am about to see. Elegant Red-necked Grebes floating in large rafts serenading me with the melody of spring.

And it happens. My breathing slows and my heart expands. I take a long deep breath, hold it briefly and exhale as my soul rises to the invitation.

Spring is here. I am in my element. Nothing else matters for the next few hours as I shake off the shackles of winter. Spring is ever my metaphor for rebirth, resurrection and the freeing of my soul to go forth once more where deep-rooted desire takes it.

This is who I am. The core of my being. My identity in its truest form. For the next few hours, I am as free as the winged wonders I observe.

~ Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog.

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2. Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

The Long Exhale as I Rise to Springs Beckoning

Hmmm, it is coming again and I am so very ready for it.

We are three days away from the first day of spring. Mother Nature does not necessarily observe these manmade official changeover days for the seasons. Winter will still hold court for the next couple of weeks and may sneak in a last gasp in early April. But my thoughts now turn to the coming season of winged wonders.

Early spring is waterfowl season. In a couple of weeks, I will make my first trip to the lakefront, after hibernating for the colder months, in anticipation of rafts of ducks and grebes feeding in the bays and along the shorelines.

Anticipation grows as I pull into the parking lot of Colonel Sam Smith Park. I feel the weight of winter beginning to lift from my shoulders as I gear up for the day with binoculars around my neck, field guide in my pocket and backpack on my back.

My itinerary for the day is inscribed in my brain by long practice. I am unapologetically a creature of habit. I have been visualizing this day and the route I will follow for several weeks. I will not vary my path because it is a ritual to which I am wedded.

I head down the paved trail observing Starlings, Red-winged Blackbirds and American Tree Sparrows in the thick bushes. Perhaps a Crow perched on a larger branch surveying the area or an early Cormorant gliding overhead.

A quick detour onto the observation deck of the shallow pond turns up puddle ducks – ubiquitous Mallards, ever present Gadwalls and perhaps a flat-billed Northern Shoveler or two – mingling with Canada Geese and Mute Swans in a communal habitat.

Back onto the pathway, I head toward the east bays as Tree Swallows dip and dive overhead welcoming me back. Chickadees flit through the trees with their distinctive springs-here breeding season call. Robins are moving about and Brown Creepers spiraling down branches.

I hear the distinctive yodeling call as the large bay comes into view and my anticipation quickens. There is nothing more reliable than what I am about to see. Elegant Red-necked Grebes floating in large rafts serenading me with the melody of spring.

And it happens. My breathing slows and my heart expands. I take a long deep breath, hold it briefly and exhale as my soul rises to the invitation.

Spring is here. I am in my element. Nothing else matters for the next few hours as I shake off the shackles of winter. Spring is ever my metaphor for rebirth, resurrection and the freeing of my soul to go forth once more where deep-rooted desire takes it.

This is who I am. The core of my being. My identity in its truest form. For the next few hours, I am as free as the winged wonders I observe.

~  Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2 . Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

Metaphors of Life Journal: E-mail Mania - Going Bat Crap Crazy in the Digital Age

Hmmm, is it a done deal that I will be done-in by e-mail mania?

In a strange incident that investigators are calling a sign of the times, the first verifiable death-by-e-mail occurred this week. Details are still sketchy but information released to date indicates a worker was killed at his place of employment under unusual circumstances.

Co-workers reported they observed Joe Smith, at 6:15 pm on Friday evening, red-faced, hunch-backed and muttering incoherently as he hammered obsessively at his keyboard. One co-worker reported, on the condition of anonymity, hearing Smith exclaim “I’m going to finally get to the end of this unread e-mail list even if it kills me.”.

A worker arriving early Monday was greeted by a grisly scene. Smith’s battered body was on the floor of his workstation. His laptop was reduced to rubble around him.

Unconfirmed reports indicate that the &/7 and @/2 keys were embedded in the victim’s forehead, the caps lock key was wedged firmly in one nostril and the ctrl, fn and alt keys were lodged in his left ear.

Investigators declined to comment on the case saying it is an investigation in progress. However, confidential informants report that investigators are pursuing two theories.

Theory 1: The victim’s laptop overheated, during an aggressive assault on his unread e-mails list, became locked in a delete-undelete-delete loop and blew apart with deadly force.

Theory 2: The victim experienced the rare and little known Spontaneous Exploding Head Syndrome (SEHS) brought on by dehydration, muscle fatigue and mental stress. The resulting expulsion of brain matter took out the victim’s laptop.

The victim’s employer distanced the company from responsibility, reporting that the victim – while a valuable employee – had become increasingly obsessed with his e-mail inbox. “He basically wigged out on us. There was nothing we could do. He bared his teeth and barked like a dog at a manager who tried to pry him away from his keyboard.”

Knowledgeable sources advised this reporter that two leading personal injury law firms have contacted the victim’s family urging them to file a death-by-email wrongful death lawsuit. Experts in the field say this landmark case could involve a claim for between $3.5 and $5 million dollars.

I have a very real concern that this scenario is likely to unfold in the near future and, more distressing, that I might be the guy who goes bat crap crazy. I conservatively estimate that I receive an e-mail every five to ten minutes throughout the day. I catch myself muttering in frustration all too often and entertaining violent thoughts about my computer.

So here is my ask. Make this post go viral to raise awareness of this issue that no one wants to talk about. Together we can defeat the e-mail mania that has infected the working world.

There is no time to waste. Tomorrow anyone one of us could fall victim to e-mail inflicted SEHS and become a sad metaphor for the signature threat of the digital age.

~ Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog.

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2. Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

E-mail Mania: Going Bat Crap Crazy in the Digital Age

Hmmm, is it a done deal that I will be done-in by e-mail mania?

In a strange incident that investigators are calling a sign of the times, the first verifiable death-by-e-mail occurred this week. Details are still sketchy but information released to date indicates a worker was killed at his place of employment under unusual circumstances.

  Co-workers reported they observed Joe Smith, at 6:15 pm on Friday evening, red-faced, hunch-backed and muttering incoherently as he hammered obsessively at his keyboard. One co-worker reported, on the condition of anonymity, hearing Smith exclaim “I’m going to finally get to the end of this unread e-mail list even if it kills me.”.

  A worker arriving early Monday was greeted by a grisly scene. Smith’s battered body was on the floor of his workstation. His laptop was reduced to rubble around him.

  Unconfirmed reports indicate that the &/7 and @/2 keys were embedded in the victim’s forehead, the caps lock key was wedged firmly in one nostril and the ctrl, fn and alt keys were lodged in his left ear.

  Investigators declined to comment on the case saying it is an investigation in progress. However, confidential informants report that investigators are pursuing two theories.

  Theory 1: The victim’s laptop overheated, during an aggressive assault on his unread e-mails list, became locked in a delete-undelete-delete loop and blew apart with deadly force.

  Theory 2: The victim experienced the rare and little known Spontaneous Exploding Head Syndrome (SEHS) brought on by dehydration, muscle fatigue and mental stress. The resulting expulsion of brain matter took out the victim’s laptop.

  The victim’s employer distanced the company from responsibility, reporting that the victim – while a valuable employee – had become increasingly obsessed with his e-mail inbox. “He basically wigged out on us. There was nothing we could do. He bared his teeth and barked like a dog at a manager who tried to pry him away from his keyboard.”

  Knowledgeable sources advised this reporter that two leading personal injury law firms have contacted the victim’s family urging them to file a death-by-email wrongful death lawsuit. Experts in the field say this landmark case could involve a claim for between $3.5 and $5 million dollars.

I have a very real concern that this scenario is likely to unfold in the near future and, more distressing, that I might be the guy who goes bat crap crazy. I conservatively estimate that I receive an e-mail every five to ten minutes throughout the day. I catch myself muttering in frustration all too often and entertaining violent thoughts about my computer.

So here is my ask. Make this post go viral to raise awareness of this issue that no one wants to talk about. Together we can defeat the e-mail mania that has infected the working world.

There is no time to waste. Tomorrow anyone one of us could fall victim to e-mail inflicted SEHS and become a sad metaphor for the signature threat of the digital age.

~  Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2 . Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

Metaphors of Life Journal: Astrology - Pseudoscience or Truth Meets Myth

Hmmm, can we categorically dismiss Astrology as the stuff of phony mystics?

I confess I have never given much thought to the subject of Astrology. It seemed unworthy of my attention. This week I received a flyer in the mail from an Astrology Centre that at first blush seemed to confirm my bias.

This Astrology service claims to be the cure for all ills and evils. It promises a permanent solution for: business problems, money problems, family arguments, childless couples, love problems, enemy problems, jealousy, marriage problems, sexual problems, drinking problems, depression, property issues, negativity, house problems and, yes, even visa or court problems.

The flyer emphasized a special skill in bringing back loved ones, although I am not clear what bringing back means in this context. Back from the dead, I assume, although whether in spirit, in body of some combination of the two, I do not know.

Having a run of bad luck? This Astrologer can also remove and destroy black magic, bad luck, Obeyah, Witchcraft, Obeya, Jadoo and Voodo. There is even a 100% satisfaction guarantee which seems like an oxymoron in the circumstances.

All cynicism aside, I have always equated Astrology with the questionable area of horoscopes and left it at that. But few minutes of Google research turned up a few surprising facts.

First, a formal definition courtesy of Wikipedia. Astrology is the study of the movements and relative position of celestial objects as a means for divining information about human affairs and terrestrial events.

Did you know that Astrology dates all the way back to the 2nd Millennium BCE? I certainly did not. More surprising is the fact that for most of its history it was considered a scholarly tradition and was common in academic circles where it was thought of in the same vein as astronomy, alchemy, meteorology and even medicine.

However, the 20th century brought wide adoption of the scientific method for investigation, acquiring new knowledge and correcting and integrating previous knowledge. Astrology did not stand up against the scientific method and has been relegated to a pseudoscience.

So what are we to make of the once highly regarded practice of Astrology and the current incarnations of it that strain credibility? Perhaps we should think of it as a metaphor for the boundless possibility of mankind and the cosmos which we inhabit. Its validity may lie somewhere in between truth and myth, science and religion, cold hard facts and mysticism.

American writer Kurt Vonnegut may have summed it up best:

“About astrology and palmistry, they are good because they make people vivid and full of possibilities. They are communism at its best. Everybody has a birth date and almost everybody has a palm.”

~ Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog.

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2. Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

Astrology: Psuedoscience or Truth Meets Myth?

Hmmm, can we categorically dismiss Astrology as the stuff of phony mystics?

I confess I have never given much thought to the subject of Astrology. It seemed unworthy of my attention. This week I received a flyer in the mail from an Astrology Centre that at first blush seemed to confirm my bias.

This Astrology service claims to be the cure for all ills and evils. It promises a permanent solution for: business problems, money problems, family arguments, childless couples, love problems, enemy problems, jealousy, marriage problems, sexual problems, drinking problems, depression, property issues, negativity, house problems and, yes, even visa or court problems.

The flyer emphasized a special skill in bringing back loved ones, although I am not clear what bringing back means in this context. Back from the dead, I assume, although whether in spirit, in body of some combination of the two, I do not know.

Having a run of bad luck? This Astrologer can also remove and destroy black magic, bad luck, Obeyah, Witchcraft, Obeya, Jadoo and Voodo. There is even a 100% satisfaction guarantee which seems like an oxymoron in the circumstances.

All cynicism aside, I have always equated Astrology with the questionable area of horoscopes and left it at that. But few minutes of Google research turned up a few surprising facts.

First, a formal definition courtesy of Wikipedia. Astrology is the study of the movements and relative position of celestial objects as a means for divining information about human affairs and terrestrial events.

Did you know that Astrology dates all the way back to the 2nd Millennium BCE? I certainly did not. More surprising is the fact that for most of its history it was considered a scholarly tradition and was common in academic circles where it was thought of in the same vein as astronomy, alchemy, meteorology and even medicine.

However, the 20th century brought wide adoption of the scientific method for investigation, acquiring new knowledge and correcting and integrating previous knowledge. Astrology did not stand up against the scientific method and has been relegated to a pseudoscience.

So what are we to make of the once highly regarded practice of Astrology and the current incarnations of it that strain credibility? Perhaps we should think of it as a metaphor for the boundless possibility of mankind and the cosmos which we inhabit. Its validity may lie somewhere in between truth and myth, science and religion, cold hard facts and mysticism.

American writer Kurt Vonnegut may have summed it up best:

“About astrology and palmistry, they are good because they make people vivid and full of possibilities. They are communism at its best. Everybody has a birth date and almost everybody has a palm.”

~  Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog.

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2 . Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

Metaphors of Life Journal: When I Grow Old and Wear the Bottom of My Trousers Rolled - Staring Down 60

I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled
T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Hmmm, as I stare down the undeniable landmark age, will you humour me as I make a few declarations?

In only a few weeks I will reach the landmark age of 60. This means that I will likely have to change the name of this ongoing post series to Now That I Am Old. But for now I will continue to indulge myself and imagine how I will behave in the latter years of my life.

When I grow old…

I will opt out of the at-the-speed-of-light pace of modern living. Millennials can take my place in the never-ending race. I will watch contently from the sidelines, shake my head with an old man’s hubris and wonder where they all think they are going in such a confounded hurry.

and wear the bottom of my trousers rolled…

I will not be concerned each day with how far down the “To Do” list I make it. In fact, I may not have a “To Do” list at all. I rather like the idea of rising each morning with the knowledge that I can choose to do nothing of significance and still call it a successful day.

When I grow old…

I will ignore impatient drivers when they honk at me for having the audacity to take my time responding to the green light. In fact, I might just slump over in the seat and pretend I am expired just to perplex and dismay my adversaries.

and wear the bottom of my trousers rolled…

I will steadfastly decline to get on board with the latest technology that is supposed to make my life easier or more productive or more exciting. Ever the technology Grinch, I will go old school wherever possible and declare that everything ridiculously old is new again and ever shall be.

When I grow old…

I will spend as much time as my aging body can manage roaming meadows, marshlands and woodland trails immersing myself in the endlessly fascinating dance of nature and all its wondrous creatures. My social skills, never my strong suit in any case, may atrophy as I become fluent in the language of the woodlands and choose it over the language of mankind.

And wear the bottom of my trousers rolled…

I will embrace the over the hill metaphor by sitting on the proverbial hill soaking up the sun and watching contentedly as the world rolls on. It will not concern me that life is passing me by because I will have done my time playing by the rules.

I will be a reclusive, peculiar old fart stuck in my ways and deliriously happy being so. And, of course, I will at long last have my trousers rolled just as T.S. predicted.

~ Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog.

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2. Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

When I Grow Old and Wear the Bottom of My Trousers Rolled – Staring Down 60

I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled

T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Hmmm, as I stare down the undeniable landmark age, will you humour me as I make a few declarations?

In only a few weeks I will reach the landmark age of 60. This means that I will likely have to change the name of this ongoing post series to Now That I Am Old. But for now I will continue to indulge myself and imagine how I will behave in the latter years of my life.

When I grow old…

I will opt out of the at-the-speed-of-light pace of modern living. Millennials can take my place in the never-ending race. I will watch contently from the sidelines, shake my head with an old man’s hubris and wonder where they all think they are going in such a confounded hurry.

and wear the bottom of my trousers rolled…

I will not be concerned each day with how far down the “To Do” list I make it. In fact, I may not have a “To Do” list at all. I rather like the idea of rising each morning with the knowledge that I can choose to do nothing of significance and still call it a successful day.

When I grow old…

I will ignore impatient drivers when they honk at me for having the audacity to take my time responding to the green light. In fact, I might just slump over in the seat and pretend I am expired just to perplex and dismay my adversaries.

and wear the bottom of my trousers rolled…

I will steadfastly decline to get on board with the latest technology that is supposed to make my life easier or more productive or more exciting. Ever the technology Grinch, I will go old school wherever possible and declare that everything ridiculously old is new again and ever shall be.

When I grow old…

I will spend as much time as my aging body can manage roaming meadows, marshlands and woodland trails immersing myself in the endlessly fascinating dance of nature and all its wondrous creatures. My social skills, never my strong suit in any case, may atrophy as I become fluent in the language of the woodlands and choose it over the language of mankind.

And wear the bottom of my trousers rolled…

I will embrace the over the hill metaphor by sitting on the proverbial hill soaking up the sun and watching contentedly as the world rolls on. It will not concern me that life is passing me by because I will have done my time playing by the rules.

I will be a reclusive, peculiar old fart stuck in my ways and deliriously happy being so. And, of course, I will at long last have my trousers rolled just as T.S. predicted.

~  Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2 . Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

Metaphors of Life Journal: Hunting Muskie Spotlight - The View from Above the Story "5 Iron"

Hmmm, would a bird’s eye view help you read between the lines of “5 Iron”?

It was just by chance that I was there to witness that pivotal round of golf between AJ and his brother Davis. I don’t usually hunt in that area. It isn’t prime territory. But my usual spots were turning up empty, so I was improvising.

Oh, did I forget to tell you that I’m a hawk? A Northern Harrier, to be precise. I get that you might think it’s odd that a bird would be writing a guest post. But since I play a key role in the story, Michael thought it would be interesting to get my point of view.

I noticed AJ as I was cruising over the parking lot. Something about the way he watched me piqued my curiosity. Most people just think “Hey, there’s a hawk” and then lose interest. But I could tell that AJ was an admirer of birds, so I decided to follow him for a while. It was a slow hunting day anyway.

There was something going on between AJ and Davis. I could tell from their body language as they teed off on the first hole. (Hawks have a sixth sense for this kind of thing. It makes us good hunters.) It could be the fact that Davis clearly had the big money. He arrived in a black Mercedes and had custom-made clubs. AJ was obviously envious but tried not to let it show.

When they were on the second hold, I feigned a freefall like I was locked on prey. It was really just a ruse to get a closer look. Davis was talking about “the trail I’m leaving behind me” and that it wasn’t what he hoped it would be. AJ wasn’t sure what to make of this humility in his brother.

Things really got interesting when Davis hit his ball ten feet into the woods. I did a discreet flyby and saw the look of disbelief on AJ’s face as Davis pulled out a 5 Iron to try an impossible shot. You can tell a lot about a person when you observe those moments when they go off script. It’s often a sign of a rite of passage, as Michael would say.

I can’t tell you much more without making this post a spoiler. But picture me swooping down just as Davis’ ball took an unlikely bounce, Davis giving his custom-made clubs to AJ and the lid blowing off a family secret. And consider me to be a metaphor.

Before I soar off into the sunset and other horizons, let me cue you into the fact that birds are a recurring motif in the stories in “Hunting Muskie: Rites of Passage”. In the words of one reviewer:

“Whether a pair of mourning doves, a golf ball-stealing hawk, or soaring turkey vultures, they are by turns harbingers, guardians, or Greek chorus, always reminding us that nothing we do happens in isolation.”

Off you go now and start reading “Hunting Muskie: Rites of Passage”. Remember to look up and tip your cap to me as you read “5 Iron”.

~ Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog.

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2. Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.

Hunting Muskie Spotlight: The View from Above the Story “5 Iron”

Hmmm, would a bird’s eye view help you read between the lines of “5 Iron”?

It was just by chance that I was there to witness that pivotal round of golf between AJ and his brother Davis. I don’t usually hunt in that area. It isn’t prime territory. But my usual spots were turning up empty, so I was improvising.

Oh, did I forget to tell you that I’m a hawk? A Northern Harrier, to be precise. I get that you might think it’s odd that a bird would be writing a guest post. But since I play a key role in the story, Michael thought it would be interesting to get my point of view.

I noticed AJ as I was cruising over the parking lot. Something about the way he watched me piqued my curiosity. Most people just think “Hey, there’s a hawk” and then lose interest. But I could tell that AJ was an admirer of birds, so I decided to follow him for a while. It was a slow hunting day anyway.

There was something going on between AJ and Davis. I could tell from their body language as they teed off on the first hole. (Hawks have a sixth sense for this kind of thing. It makes us good hunters.) It could be the fact that Davis clearly had the big money. He arrived in a black Mercedes and had custom-made clubs. AJ was obviously envious but tried not to let it show.

When they were on the second hold, I feigned a freefall like I was locked on prey. It was really just a ruse to get a closer look. Davis was talking about “the trail I’m leaving behind me” and that it wasn’t what he hoped it would be. AJ wasn’t sure what to make of this humility in his brother.

Things really got interesting when Davis hit his ball ten feet into the woods. I did a discreet flyby and saw the look of disbelief on AJ’s face as Davis pulled out a 5 Iron to try an impossible shot. You can tell a lot about a person when you observe those moments when they go off script. It’s often a sign of a rite of passage, as Michael would say.

I can’t tell you much more without making this post a spoiler. But picture me swooping down just as Davis’ ball took an unlikely bounce, Davis giving his custom-made clubs to AJ and the lid blowing off a family secret. And consider me to be a metaphor.

Before I soar off into the sunset and other horizons, let me cue you into the fact that birds are a recurring motif in the stories in “Hunting Muskie: Rites of Passage”. In the words of one reviewer:

“Whether a pair of mourning doves, a golf ball-stealing hawk, or soaring turkey vultures, they are by turns harbingers, guardians, or Greek chorus, always reminding us that nothing we do happens in isolation.”

Off you go now and start reading “Hunting Muskie: Rites of Passage”. Remember to look up and tip your cap to me as you read “5 Iron”.

~  Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .

~ Subscribe to Michael’s Metaphors of Life Journal aka Things That Make Me Go Hmmm at its’ internet home www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog2 . Instructions for subscribing are provided in the Subscribe to this Blog: How To instructions page in the right sidebar. If you’re reading this post on another social networking site, come back regularly to my page for postings once a week.