Michael Robert Dyet's Blog, page 76

Autumn Gold, Fire Alarms and Pillars That Endure

Hmmm, how can we cope with the reality that life never stands still?

I'm fortunate to have an inspiring view from my 18th floor window of a pleasant court with clusters of evergreen and deciduous trees. They're displaying a lovely palette of fall shades now as the autumn colour parade reaches its peak.

Directly below me there is a string of seven trees that have turned a beautiful shade of golden yellow flecked with green. The ground below them is speckled with yellow leaves scattered around two clusters of spruce trees. I gaze down at this miniature panorama frequently and take simple pleasure in observing it.

But just this very moment the fire alarm has gone off in the building. A piercing, three beat staccato tone that grates on my nerves like fingernails on a blackboard. I'll dutifully stay put in my apartment until the firefighters arrive. They'll check the source of the alarm and, in all likelihood, announce that all is well and we can go about our normal business.

What do these two things have in common? Both remind me that life never stands still. The golden leaves on that row of trees will gradually turn russet brown and tumble to the ground. The bare skeleton that remains will be a harbinger of the lockdown of winter. The cycle of the seasons is inexorable.

The fire alarm (which has just stopped although no firemen have arrived) is a reminder that my fate is not always in my own hands. The acts of others have consequences that can spin my life off in a totally different direction which I have little choice but to follow.

I often long for the simple pleasure of stasis. How wonderful it would be if I could circumvent change and turn off the universal march of time. Not permanently, of course. Just for a few days so I could languish in the beauty of autumn at its peak and not have to worry what twist of fate might be waiting for me around the next corner.

Alas, none of us have that power. We must ride the waves of life, feel ourselves aging as time marches on and come to terms with the reality that we are not in control of the bigger picture.

So how do we cope with the whims of fate and the relentless march of change? Live in the moment as much as we are able. Cherish the joys while they last. Find those pillars in our life that endure and anchor ourselves to them. We can't know what tomorrow will bring but we can go forth into it grounded in the things that withstand the test of time.

The fire alarm has stopped. Quite peculiar – no fire trucks arrived. No announcements over the intercom. I'm left to assume that the plumbing service working in the building today tripped the alarm by accident. Sometimes we don't get the answers.

So I will adopt the trees outside my window, in the full bloom of autumn colour, as today's metaphor for life. Change is inevitable. Time waits for no man. But there are simple joys on the journey that I will drink in while they last. I will plant my roots in solid ground and ride out the storms. There will always be another spring.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of "Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel" – 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. Visit www.smashwords.com to download a free preview of the e-book version.

~ 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.

~ Send comments or questions to michael@mdyetmetaphor.com.

Random Act of Metaphor: Thanksgiving Gift of Indian Summer

The Indian Summer of life should be a little sunny and a little sad, like the season, and infinite in wealth and depth of tone, but never hustled. ~ Henry Adams, American Journalist, Historian and Novelist

Hmmm, how shall I spend these few days of leisure in the mellow days of mid October in the season of Thanksgiving?

I am officially on vacation for the next week as I use up the last of my treasured and hard earned vacation days for this year. Time to take a long, slow breath, exhale and shed the scaly layer of stress that always accompanies the last day of work. Racing to the wire to leave things shipshape so I don't burden my coworkers with too many "hand-off" projects.

A promising start. Autumn has unfurled in affectionate shades of yellow, amber and rust with occasional bold splashes of red. Not a cloud to be seen in the pastel blue sky. Just the slightest of breezes nuzzling the blushing leaves which are disinclined to fall just yet.

And yes, I will venture forth into the fields, marshes and meadows to admire and conspire with the birds that yet remain. Some have already vacated these parts, but thankfully many dally still. They are coaxed into lingering, as I am tempted into wondering, by this…

Thanksgiving gift of Indian Summer – a random act of metaphor:

For the gratitude we owe for all we have, For the bittersweet remembrance of what has slipped through our failing grasp, For the necessity to embrace what the moment offers. For we know not what tomorrow holds nor do we dare to wonder.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of "Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel" – 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.

~ Send comments or questions to michael@mdyetmetaphor.com.

Wading Through Rhetoric to Ontario Election Day

Hmmm, should I vote red, blue or orange in the Ontario provincial election that happens this week?

I'm only being partially facetious with that question. The truth of the matter is that it is getting increasingly difficult to find a difference between the three parties other than the colour of their election signs and the ties or scarves each party leader wears.

The same tired campaign rhetoric is rolled out for every election. The faces change from time to time but they are all working with the same worn out playbook.

Governing Party: Trumpet all the wonderful things you have done. Line up your accomplishments like tin soldiers and pat yourself on the back at every opportunity. Refuse to talk about the promises you failed to keep and the scandals that broke during your term. Portray the leader of the official opposition as naïve. Self-righteously proclaim that you need more time to accomplish your oh so lofty goals.

Official Opposition: Attack, attack, attack. Spin all available facts and statistics in such a way as to show that the party in power has shamelessly abused their privilege. Refuse to talk about the promises your party failed to keep – and the scandals that broke – the last time it was in power. Portray their party leader as arrogant. Self-righteously proclaim that it is time for a change and that it would be a grievous error to reelect that party.

Party #3: Attack, attack attack – both the governing party and the official opposition. Spin all available facts and statistics in such a way as to show that there is no discernable difference between the party in power and the official opposition. Portray your party leader as a breath of fresh air. Self-righteously proclaim that it is time for sweeping change and that your party is the only one with the real interests of the voting public in mind.

It seems to me it has become very much a paint-by-the numbers approach. The talking heads are largely interchangeable. They simply pass on the tie or scarf to someone new who hasn't yet been tainted by broken promises or scandals.

Yes, I know I sound quite cynical. I wish I could be otherwise but I've seen the game played out too many times. I will vote on election day. But my choice may, I regret to admit, come down to who I dislike the least.

Elections are rather like autumn. They come along at regular intervals. There is a brief display of bright and contrasting colours (red, blue and orange). The colours reach their peak (election day). Then most of the leaves (promises) fall and everything blurs to gray.

But I'm not entirely jaded. I still hold out hope that true change may eventually come along and spring will replace autumn as the election metaphor. Fresh ideas, rebirth and warm, cleansing rains that give us all a fresh start. Hope springs eternal.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of "Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel" – 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. Visit www.smashwords.com to download a free preview of the e-book version.

~ 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.

~ Send comments or questions to michael@mdyetmetaphor.com.

Egad! Bill Gates Built My Car

Hmmm, is all the metal, rubber and glass that make up my car just a hollow shell that hides the handiwork of Bill Gates?

Earlier this year I retired my faithful and reliable, 12 year old Chevy Cavalier when the air conditioning gave out. I did my "Lemonade Guide" research and bought a (not quite new) car that got the nod of approval for used vehicles. Little did I know how far the technology that goes into cars has advanced in the last decade – and how temperamental that technology can be.

Three weeks ago my 2 year old, supposed-to-be reliable vehicle started having intermittent problems starting. Turn the key – nothing, nada, zippo, zilch. Just silence. After a few tries, it would finally fire up.

No problem, I say to myself. That's what warranties are for. Back to the dealership I go. Naturally, while they have it in the shop the problem disappears. So they clean the electrical contacts, reassure me all is well and I'm back on the road.

I'm good for three weeks. Then it happens again. Can't get it started at all this time. No problem, I say to myself. Got CAA and still got the warranty. Get her towed in figuring this time they'll be sure to find the problem. You guessed it. In the shop she starts like a charm every time.

What's their solution? They "upgraded some of the computer components" which they think might fix the problem. So I'm left to conclude that my supposed-to-be-reliable car might just be a tiny computer chip surrounded by a ton of just-for-show metal, rubber and glass.

In short, I think Bill Gates built my car and frankly that scares the hell out of me. Now each time I try to start the car I'm expecting an error message to appear on the dashboard: "A dialogue box is open. You must close the dialogue box before the car will start."  Leaving me to wonder: "Where's the bloody recovery disk and where do I insert it even if I find it?"

And what if my car gets a virus? It could lock all the doors, lock out the steering wheel and push the gas pedal to the metal. How do I explain that to the police when they find me upside down in a ditch with the lights flashing, the wheels spinning madly and the horn honking hysterically?

My friend down in L.A. will tell me I should have bought a car built by Steve Jobs. Much more user friendly and no virus problems.

I suppose there could be an upside. Maybe I don't need to take my car to the dealership to get it repaired. Maybe I can just call the Best Buy "Geek Squad" guys. They're probably more qualified to troubleshoot the problem than the dealership's mechanics.

Come to think of it, I've never seen the mechanics walking around the dealership. It could well be that behind the service door there are a handful of cyborgs programmed to do the repairs. But who repairs the cyborg when its computer chip melts down?

I'm feeling nostalgic for my old, low tech but reliable Cavalier. But I guess I can't fight the relentless march of technology. It would be nice, though, if Bill Gates et al would figure out how to properly troubleshoot the technology before putting it into production! Might fix the problem is not a particularly comforting thing to hear.

Computerized vehicles are perhaps the defining metaphor of our generation. We're at the mercy of the relentless technology race. The pace is so fast the developers don't have time to get the bugs out of the Version 5.0 before Version 6.0 hits the market.

Wish me luck starting my car tomorrow morning. I think it's a 50-50 proposition at best.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of "Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel" – 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. Visit www.smashwords.com to download a free preview of the e-book version.

~ 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.

~ Send comments or questions to michael@mdyetmetaphor.com.

Dialing Down the RPMs for Moments of Grace

Hmmm, how much of life's splendour slips by me unnoticed as I scurry along caught up in counting and racing for the finish line?

I'm in fall bird watching mode now as the nesting birds succumb to the seasonal imperative and begin winging their way south. Those of us afflicted with the bird watching obsession get rather caught up in building our day list, our season list and our year list.

Fall migration birding can be a feast or famine scenario. Depending on the weather conditions, the trees and fields can be buzzing with birds or frustratingly quiet.

Yesterday was a famine day. On those days I accelerate my pace trying to cover as much territory as possible to round up a respectful day list. Occasionally, Mother Nature reminds me that I should be less concerned with numbers than with the wonder of each and every one of her winged creatures.

As I was hoofing it down a trail in one of my favourite birding spots, a Northern "Yellow Shafted" Flicker passed overhead and landed in a tree. Flickers are large woodpeckers – 12" tall with a 20" wingspan and large curved bill.

Flickers boast quite eye-catching plumage. They have a brownish barred back, spotted belly, black whisker stripe below the eye and black breast-band. A red nape adorns their rather regal grey head.  But Flickers are quite common so I rarely take the time to properly admire them.

On this day, I mentally ticked off the species on my day list and was about to continue on to the viewing platform overlooking the marsh. Fortunately, at that moment the Flicker lifted off and took wing. The angle was just right for me to catch the striking flash of golden yellow under the wings.

I stopped in my tracks and tried to recall the last time I had taken note of this exquisite feature. I'm a bit ashamed to admit that I couldn't remember. I realized that Mother Nature was telling me:

Slow down. The graces I have for you today take time and patience to experience. Isn't reveling in these graces worth two or three less species on your day list?

The answer, of course, is yes.

The exotic face pattern, swept-back crest, red bill and rainbow iridescence of a Wood Duck…

The snow-white plumage, yellow dagger-like bill and s-curve neck of the stately Great Egret…

The sun-yellow breast, black necklace and yellow spectacles of the Canada Warbler…

All of these are worth pausing to stop and admire again and again. It matters not whether I have 45 or 50 species on my day list. What truly matters is that I take the time to find and delight in beauty wherever it presents itself. I need to dial down the RPMs so I catch those moments of grace. Letting them slip by unnoticed would be shameful waste.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of "Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel" – 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.

~ Send comments or questions to michael@mdyetmetaphor.com.

Random Act of Metaphor: Old Man Pine Reaching for the Sky

Hmmm, can a crippled pine tree teach me to live with grace and gratitude?

I live on a small court that funnels off into four, high-rise apartment buildings. From my 18th floor view, the court looks a bit like a miniature Indy course adorned by clusters of maple trees with a few pines interspersed among them.

The maples are handsome this time of year as the leaves begin to rust signaling that fall is edging closer. But it is one of the pine trees that most captures my imagination. This particular pine is rather misshapen. The trunk parallels the ground for several feet before gracefully arching upward toward the sky.

I have no idea what caused it to grow in this odd configuration. But it seems obvious that it fought against fate to survive. It rather resembles an old man with bowed back proudly shouldering a load as he trudges along.

There are days when I feel akin to that pine tree. The weight of life can be a ponderous burden at times. But the pine endures season after season and inspires me to do likewise.

Old Man Pine with the weight of the world on his back gracefully reaching for the sky – a random act of metaphor to remind me that life wasn't meant to be easy. Victory won in overcoming hardship is what builds the character that carries us through life's storms.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of "Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel" – 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. Visit www.smashwords.com to download a free preview of the e-book version.

~ 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.

~ Send comments or questions to michael@mdyetmetaphor.com.

When I Grow Old and Wear the Bottom of My Trousers Rolled: Sequel

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, when I grow old and wear the bottom of my trousers rolled, as I surely will God willing, which golden moments will my ragged memory choose to expend its sputtering wealth upon?

I do not think it will be moments of triumph. Not the accolades or tarnished awards. Not the praises earned that dissolved to dust. I believe it will be those minutes and hours in which I reveled in the simple things in life. The moments when I let go of ambition and choose to take life at its face value.

Memory Time Capsule: Standing by the lake casting wishes on the breeze as my twenty year old lure glinted through the water. Only just arrived and unwinding my expectation. The line halting suddenly with a force quite unexpected. A few cranks and then the singing of the line as the pike fought against its fate.

A few yards gained, a few yards lost, give and take, will against will. The crease upon the water's surface. My God, it must be huge! Is it hooked well? Patience, a whispered prayer, the last gasp run and the battle finally won. 30" of nature's glory. Yes, this I will remember.

Memory Time Capsule: Crossing the channel on the ferry in the last embrace of spring. Ward's Island coming into view as the mist rolls and curls on the lake. Cormorants and gulls riding on the swells. The gangplank clanking down on the dock. The day begun.

The island cottagers just awakening. A slow cat ponders me, cocks its head and slinks away. I reach the woodlot. Twittering, chattering, flutes. Ah, I am in luck. Just past the path that dissects the woodlot – a fall-out of warblers! They dance and flit around me by the dozens clad in their brightest breeding garb. All that is required of me is to take it in. Yes, this I will remember.

Memory Time Capsule: A flotilla of cars in lockstep makes their way along the highway. Headlights piercing the darkness. Follow the leader. One by one each car pulls onto the shoulder. Kill the ignition. Step out into the invading night. We are all strangers here. Intruders in Algonquin's sacred realm.

Impossible silence reigns. All these people hushed in anticipation. Who could believe it could be so. The leaders do their best calls. We wait. They call again – and yet again. Then it rises over the forest. Across the darkened fields and through the gloom. The haunting, enchanting and defiant howl of wolves as they claim their birthright. Yes, this I will remember.

Metaphors for the wanderer in me that longs to step beyond the borders of understanding. Where all that matter is faith in something greater, humility and the capacity to be awed.

Yes, when I wear the bottom of my trousers rolled and my memory begins to fragment at the edges, these things I will remember. All else will simply no longer matter.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of "Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel" – 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.

~ Send comments or questions to michael@mdyetmetaphor.com.

ON THE EVE OF SEPTMBER: Bittersweet She Beckons

Hmmm, how did the self-indulgent summer pass so quickly? Can we really be on the eve of September?

It's a resplendent, late August evening in the wake of a petulant summer of scorching heat and parched earth capped off with the whirling wrath of tornados.

A swath of bejeweled sunlight is burnishing tree tops and illuminating one side of Silver Maple Court like a yellow brick road. A large puddle in the parking lot – a remnant of a thunderstorm — makes a miniature the pond as it dozes beneath a soft blue sky.

Shadows are lengthening as the hour grows late. A waft of summer breeze ruffles the leaves of a tree as if Mother Nature is running her hand through the tresses of her children's hair.

All of life seems to be in repose. A rare moment of peace and contentment in the mad rush of the frantic lives we lead. A moment to breathe deep, cleanse the mind and set our cares aside.

And yet, change is in the air. The leaves of a maple tree in the court are already frosted with pastel orange. A thick cluster of cones in the pine are ready to fall.

The waltzing butterflies and dragonflies of summer are already in decline. Monarchs are beginning to gather for their legendary migration. Shore birds are collecting on beaches and mudflats fattening up for the long flight ahead. Song birds have abandoned their nesting territories succumbing to the undeniable migration instinct.

Summer still has a month to unwind by the measure of the calendar. But fall is already playfully nipping at her heels.

It is a source of wonder to me that September still resonates within me as the start of a new cycle. All those years of school are indelibly imprinted on my psyche even 30 years removed. There is no particular reason for me to cling to that sequence. And yet I do.

September ever tastes and smells bittersweet. Grieving the lost bloom of summer's exuberance – the freedom that even now it symbolizes. Unwillingly obliged to concede that I am a year older.

But September also brings the waves of birds which I so love to observe, count and classify. The woods, fields and shorelines swell with their numbers. "Fallouts" of warblers call out to me. The trees begin to wrap themselves in their bursts of colour. The season of harvest compels me to give thanks.

September more than any other season is infused with metaphor. It is the turning of a page, rounding off a corner, cresting of a hill, reaching the end of a path, gathering in and letting go, giving thanks and lingering in regrets. It is the most contemplative of months which I welcome in the same breath as I mutter "It can't be here already!".

It's not quite September yet. But I am sliding into a September state of mind in much the same way that the Monarchs begin to gather and the birds bend their wings southward. We simply can't resist as bittersweet she beckons.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of "Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel" – 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. Visit www.smashwords.com to download a free preview of the e-book version.

~ 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.

~ Send comments or questions to michael@mdyetmetaphor.com.

COUNTING OUR BLESSINGS WHEN STORM CLOUDS LOOM

Hmmm, how has it come to be that – in the midst of our relative prosperity and comfort – we are so often disenchanted with our lives?

I wrote a posting earlier this year entitled "A Rallying Call to Defeat Old Man Apathy". At that time I felt we were in the early stages of an apathy epidemic. I was disturbed to observe some signs of negativity and cynicism that seemed to be growing in frequency.

I have continued my observations in the months that have since passed. Now I am inclined to change my diagnosis. It seems to me that apathy is a symptom rather than the disease.

I'm still not able to definitively pin down the precise nature of the disease. In any case, it would be presumptuous of me to lay claim to the ability or the right to do so. But the symptoms of the disease continue to manifest themselves in what I can only describe as a storm cloud of discontent.

I see it in the expressions of people passing by me in the halls, the malls and pretty much anywhere where walls hem us in. It seems to dissolve, or go underground, when we are out of doors. It's a little bit like a vampire. Sunlight seems to be its mortal enemy.

I see it in so many shapes and forms: 

In disenchanted Facebook status lines
In end-of-the-work-day short tempers
In the Monday blues
In behind-the-wheel-of-a-car aggressiveness (like the woman who blew through a caution light this morning going way too fast)
In the "There has to be more to life than this nine to five grind." protests
In the "I'm too tired to object, I'll just let it slide." reactions

I have settled upon the storm cloud metaphor for good reason. Storm clouds roll in, unleash their wrath and quite often give way to sunshine again. The calm after the storm is often refreshing and uplifting.

Such is the case with the discontent I have observed. It bubbles up from time to time, vents itself and dissipates. The trouble is doesn't ever seem to quite let go anymore. The steam starts building again for the next go round.

I can't claim to have put my finger on the roots of this disease. But I'm pretty sure one of the causes is the nature of the business world these days. "Less is more" has become the universal mantra. In theory it means working more efficiently – more output from the same input. But, in practice, it increasingly means less people on a project with each person remaining expected to work harder.

I don't have a miracle cure for the disease. I'm not sure that one exists. But I do believe that we can choose not let the storm cloud darken our outlook. Taking the time to count our blessings is still the best universal remedy I know.

It's cloudy and rainy outside right now. But I know the sun will be back soon. That's but one of many blessings I can confidently count upon.

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of "Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel" – 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.

~ Send comments or questions to michael@mdyetmetaphor.com.

Honking Arms, Military Conflicts & the Hairstreak Butterfly

Hmmm, how very different might our world be if we all dedicated ourselves to cultivating the fine art of patience?

I spent a few hours yesterday tending to the gardens at the church to which I belong. It so happens that our church is located at an intersection with stoplights. It struck me, during those few short hours, how often someone at the intersection honked their car horn at the person in front of them.

I tried my best to tune out the irritating noise but it was rather difficult. It happened about every fifteen minutes on average – always when one car wasn't quite prompt enough to start moving when the light turned green.

Impatience seems to me to have reached near epidemic proportions in our society. It happens wherever our lives intersect. Those places were line-ups form and the bottleneck principle comes into play.

I must admit that I'm often guilty of that negative emotion. I have to force myself to stop and ask: Where am I in such a rush to get to? Would it be so bad if I arrived there a few minutes later than planned? Wouldn't I feel much more peaceful once I arrive if I didn't stress myself out so much on the journey?

So how might our world change if we actively cultivated patience as a virtue?

Let's start with less traffic related violence. In one six year span in the U.S., there were over 10,000 incidents of aggressive driving. Over 200 men, women and children are known to have been murdered and over 12,600 people injured as a result of these 10,000 incidents. How many of these deaths and injuries might have been prevented with just a little more patience?

Farther up the violence scale, there are (according to Wikipedia) 11 military conflicts taking place in the world right now some of which began as far back as 1964. These conflicts cause at least 1,000 violent deaths per year. How many of these lives might have been spared in the opposing parties have summoned a little more patience to try and work out their differences peacefully?

Let's get a little closer to home. Statistics Canada estimates that 20% of Canadians experience a stress related illness every year. How many of these illnesses might be avoided if we simply take a deep breath and gather some perspective when impatience flares in our hearts?

On my weekend hikes, I'm always excited when a spot a tiny and tough to find hairstreak butterfly. Hairstreaks have a characteristic behaviour. They launch from a leaf and fly frantically about in a small space for a minute or so before perching again. This characteristic behaviour calls to mind our impatience impulse. We can fly off the handle at the slightest provocation.

Hairstreak butterflies have a reason to act this way. The average butterfly species has an adult life span of two weeks or less. They have very little time to play out their life. The average North American person, on the other hand, has a lifespan of 78 years. That seems ample time in which to experience life and gather our measure of joy if we play our cards correctly.

The next time impatience flares in me I'm going to try to default to the hairstreak metaphor. It might just give me the perspective I need to summon a measure of patience. Will you do the same?

~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of "Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel" – 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.

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