Michael Robert Dyet's Blog, page 78

HOPE REDEEMED IN THE ROLLING MISTS OF PRESQUI'ILE

Hmmm, a solitary aquatic plant in a rain-water pool in the midst of 1.2 kilometers of mist caressed sand beach. Random chance or divine intervention?

Each May I make a pilgrimage to Presqui'ile Provincial Park. It is the culmination of my spring bird-watching marathon. Bird-watching is a near obsession for me at this time of year and Presqui'ile is the crowning glory to which I passionately look forward.

Presqu'ile is a unique point of land that juts into Lake Ontario. 80% of the park is a nature reserve including seasonally wet meadows, backdunes, marsh environments, woodland and the impressive beach strip. Exhausted migrant birds land here in waves after their nighttime crossing of Lake Ontario.

In particular, Presqu'ile is renowned as a location for shorebirds – various types of sandpipers and plovers ranging from 6 to 20 inches in size – who stop here, during both the spring and fall migration, to feed.

I always save my exploration of the beach for the afternoon after I have scoured Lighthouse Point (Ontario's second oldest operating lighthouse), Calf's Pasture Cove and Jobe's Woods for colourful warblers, vireos, flycatchers, orioles and tanagers.

On this particular day, a rolling mist blankets the beach giving it a haunting majesty. There are only a handful of shorebirds to observe all of which are preoccupied with probing the sand for insects.

I mentally tick off Least Sandpiper, Semipalmated Sandpiper, Semipalmated Plover and Dunlin on my spring list – pleased that these shorebirds will put me over the 150 species threshold for the spring.

Scanning for more shorebirds, I notice a splash of green in a rain-water pool near the waterline. I focus my binoculars on it and, to my considerable surprise, discover that it is an aquatic plant. Two large, round green leaves branch off a single stem below the pool's surface.

1.2 kilometers of beach and this is the only plant that took root. A stray seed that fell on fertile sand? In the spiritual state of mind into which I descend at Presqui'ile, this unprecedented occurrence seems to transcend mere chance.

Call me a dreamer if you will. This solitary aquatic plant seems to me to be placed there by divine intervention as a symbol of hope.

The earthquake and tsunami in Japan, floods in Manitoba and Louisiana, the Slave Lake Alberta wildfire, Iceland's volcano eruption, enduring unrest in the middle east… It seems at times that we live in an era of unending turmoil where there is no safe haven.

And yet, hope endures. From the earthquake debris… from the wildfire ashes… from the retreating floodwater… hope rises anew because we have faith that we are not alone.

A solitary aquatic plant in a rain-water pool in the rolling mist of the Presqui'ile beach. A metaphor for hope when all around us seems beyond our control. A reason to give thanks. A reason to believe.

~ 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.

JAPAN REVISITED: Aftermath in the Ring of Fire

Hmmm, is the world still listening to the unfolding catastrophe in Japan?

Fresh headlines top the evening news directing our attention elsewhere. Osama Bin Laden killed… NATO air strikes in Libya… Gaddafi on the run… the Canadian political landscape changes… massive flooding in Manitoba and Louisiana.

In a world where every day seems to bring to light new conflict or suffering, our sensitivities are becoming numbed and our attention span is becoming short. Japan is, after all, old news.

Or is it?

I'll confess that I have turned my thoughts in other directions. But I came back to the story today to revisit the situation in Japan. Over 15,000 people are confirmed dead. Yes, we've heard that figure for awhile and digested it. But the reality is that over 9,000 people are still missing. 115,000 people are still living in evacuation centres.

How long will it be before life returns to some semblance of normal in Japan? Answer: Not anytime soon, considering that: 

88,873 houses, 3,970 roads, 71 bridges and 20,000 boats/vessels (some of them still sitting on the tops of buildings) were damaged or destroyed
520 tons of high-level radioactive water have leaked into the sea
20 million tons of debris must be removed. August is the earliest estimate for when the wreckage will be cleared from the roads.

One expert estimates that there is the equivalent of an entire century's worth of household waste to be dealt with. Mountains of debris on private land may not be cleared for many months or even years.

Care to take a guess at Japan's emergency supplementary budget for the clean-up and recovery? It is in the neighbourhood of $4.6 billion.

But there is one fact that perhaps tells the story better than any other.

As we all know by now, Japan sits in the "Ring of Fire" – an area dotted with earthquake and volcanic zones. As one article put it, Japan is in a "seismic bull's-eye". American and Japanese scientists have concluded that the March 11 quake may have heightened the stress on faults around the "Japan Trench".

So how long will the aftershock sequence continue? Six months? A year? Not even close. The experts say it will probably go on for a decade. Yes, that's right – a decade.

I'm not sure that things will ever entirely return to normal in the ravaged coastal areas of Japan. In my earlier post on the subject, the fact that moved Honshu Island 2.5 metres to the east during the quake became my metaphor for the true scale of the catastrophe.

And it remains so.

Human experience has been fundamentally altered in Japan. Let's not permit ourselves to simply shrug and move on. The news headlines may change every day. But behind the headlines, the struggle to recover will continue in Japan for years to come.

~ 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.

Lessons in Tolerance from a Treetop Rookery

Hmmm, who would have imagined we have so much to learn from a stocky, short-legged heron that prefers to mind its own business.

Most birds are quite territorial in the breeding season. Males will vigorously defend their chosen territory once they've found a mate and selected a nest site. But some birds adopt a different strategy – communal nesting sites.

Herons are perhaps the best example of communal nesting. They gather in large colonies, known as rookeries, nesting side by side in complete harmony.

Leslie Street Spit has a long established Black-crowned Night Heron rookery. Night Herons by and large prefer to mind their own business – becoming active at dusk when most creatures are settling in for the night.

I made my first visit of the season to the heron rookery just yesterday. It is an impressive indeed to see hundreds of these large, striking birds, with their blood-red eyes, amidst their treetop nests. Listening to the chorus of their trademark quok call gives evidence that they are quite content.

Leslie Street Spit is also home to thousands of Double-crested Cormorants – communal nesters themselves in other locations on the spit. Hundreds of cormorants were scattered throughout the trees in the heron rookery. It struck me as an uncommon example of tolerance that the herons accepted the presence of the Cormorants.

And then, to my surprise, I noticed that a few snow-white Great Egrets were nesting in the midst of the Heron rookery – occupying nests that were very probably built by Night Herons in previous years. The Night Herons seemed entirely at peace with this invasion.

I couldn't help but think that we humans could take a lesson or two, in the clear light of day, from the Night Herons, namely:

… That we are stronger as a community than we could ever be as individuals.

… That tolerance and open doors (or open nests) is a far better survival strategy than cutthroat competition and a survival-of-the fittest mentality.

… That harmony grows from focusing on what we have in common rather than how we may be different.

I offer you the raucous and crowded Black-crowned Night Heron rookery as a metaphor for tolerance and harmony. If mankind followed their example, perhaps we would not need to be forever watching our backs and worrying when the next 9-11 might occur.

~ 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.

Moments That Give Pause: In the Embrace of Mother Nature

Hmmm, how would I survive without those moments to give pause that Mother Nature so lovingly bestows upon me?

Saturday morning. I'm up early anxious to cash in on a rare warm and sun bleached day in a rather dismal April. A promising day of bird watching is ahead of me. My passion and my primal stress reliever.

But I have not yet shed the baggage of the work week. Impatience festers beneath the surface. Every small delay winds me up a bit more. Not the start I want to this coveted and self-indulgent day.

I arrive at the first of several birding hotspots I plan to visit. To my chagrin, fifteen or twenty cars are already parked there. A noisy crowd is most definitely not what I seek. I almost take a pass on this woodlot. Thankfully, intuition tells me not to do so.

I bird the woods with impatience steering clear of the talkative group of birders that grates on my nerves. Good birding but not great. I cross the narrow, dead-end road to the adjacent field of scrub bushes which always seems to hold something special for me. Mother Nature is waiting with the first moment to give pause of the day.

A tail bobbing Palm Warbler – a particularly brilliantly coloured specimen – pops out of a bush onto the ground. It poses there, just for me, displaying its golden yellow breast and jaunty brown cap. And, lest I miss it, flips its tail to reveal its golden rump.

I take a deep breath. A chunk of the week's baggage sloughs off me.

On to the next stop – one of my very favourite birding locales. My game plan there is well established. First stop: the cut grass trail along the flowering bushes near the parking lot. Here, the next moment to give pause awaits.

A bubbling string of varied calls signals the first mimic Catbird of the spring. Catbirds do not boast much in the way of colour. But their slim, slate gray body and black cap are quite regal nonetheless. And again, lest I miss it, it turns its back to me and flips its tail to reveal chestnut undertail coverts.

Another deep breath. Another layer of impatience dissolves.

Down the gravel trail towards the pond. A flash of rufous brown. And another. A pair of Brown Thrashers. I creep forward to catch one rather uncharacteristically posed at the top of small pine. Showing off its rich brown jacket, elongated tail and curved bill. It flushes and drops down into the weeds.

I look sideways. A Sharp-shinned Hawk is poised in a small tree. Slim bodied, rounded wings, rusty-barred breast and hooked bill. A threat to the Thrasher but a joy to me.

Breath deeply again. The past week is slipping away.

Down through Cool Hollow to the marsh for the pièce de resistance.

A Green Heron, normally reclusive and hard to sight, flies into view and perches proudly on a fallen tree trunk. I creep closer to admire it. Thick, spear-like bill, chocolate brown neck with black border and glossy green back. And, oh yes, that piercing and self-possessed yellow eye that surveys the surroundings.

I breathe easy now. The week past is gone. Mother Nature's living metaphors of serenity have redeemed me. The remainder of the day I can follow my heart's whisperings. Giving pause where it is due and matching my pace to the rhythms of nature.

~ 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: A Common Snapping Turtle Making the Uncommon Journey

Hmmm, did that enormous snapping turtle ever question the instinct that compelled it to make a journey it is so ill equipped to complete?

I was on strolling down a path in a semi-open wooded area, on the look for early spring warblers, when I came upon an impressive specimen of the Common Snapping Turtle. It looked to be close to two feet long from head to tail. Quite a prehistoric looking creature – scaly tail, massive shell and wrinkled, dinosaur-like head with its powerful hooked jaw.

You can imagine my surprise. What in heaven's name was this Snapper doing in the woods? Land travel was clearly not an easy task for it. I watched for several minutes as it made its way slowly and painstakingly around tree roots and through brushy tangles.

I did a little research on Snappers. They evolved over 40 million years ago and roamed the earth with dinosaurs. They can live up to 30 years and, surprisingly, do travel extensively overland to reach new habitat or lay eggs.

I'm guessing that this specimen was a female making her way to dig a nest and deposit her eggs. I couldn't help but wonder – seeing how arduous land travel was for her – whether this would be her last such journey and whether she would have the strength to find her way back to the water. But not making the journey did not seem to be an option. Instinct overruled self-preservation.

There are times in all our lives when we have to undertake a journey through unfamiliar terrain. We stumble along, two steps forward and one step back, wondering if we'll reach our still unknown destination or get hopelessly lost.

The voice of doubt urges us to turn back for the safety of familiar surroundings – and sometimes we do. But always the journey remains to be taken because we will not find home until we do. Home is as much about what we learn along the way as it is about the place of rest we eventually reach.

A Common Snapping turtle making the uncommon journey to fulfill its destiny – a random act of metaphor for the journey home we are all compelled to make.

~ 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.

404 Not Found: Faces, Hearts & Souls Lost Without a Trace

Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell. 

~Edna St Vincent Millay, American Poet, Playwright and Feminist

Hmmm, how is it that I did not, until just now, see the prophetic irony in that annoying "404 Page Not Found" error that leaps onto our computer screens from time to time?

I must confess that I have allowed the enormity of the Japan earthquake and tsunami to fade from my mind. So many things to do. Places to go. Obligations to meet. It is all too easy to become preoccupied again by these small necessities as I go about my daily business

But on this dreary, rainy April day, I slowed down enough to take a look back at that catastrophe. I did the obligatory Google search for "Japan Earthquake Missing People". The results made me pause once again to take it all in.

More than 26,000 people are presumed dead. But bodies have been found for only 13,500 of them. Authorities believe up to 1,000 bodies are in the muddy debris inside a six-mile radius around the Fukushima Dai-ichi plant that had been off-limits until now.

Then it happened. I clicked on one heading and the "404" error screen popped up. How oddly and tragically appropriate it seemed to me.

Many of those who perished in the Japan catastrophe will never be found. For their loved ones they will always be "404 Not Found". No closure for the grief. No final chance to say goodbye. No gravesite to visit to commune with their spirit.

I wondered how many people go missing, from causes known or unknown, and are never found. More Google searches. The numbers are staggering.

… The U.S. Department of Justice had 109,531 active missing person records as of the end of 2005.

… During 2005, 834,536 entries were made into the FBI's National Crime Information Center's missing person file – an increase of 0.51% from the 830,325 entered in 2004.

I couldn't locate a comparable statistic for Canada. Somehow that seems even worse. Don't we care enough to even keep that statistic?

In any event, statistics are just nameless numbers and don't tell the real story. The Edna St Vincent Millay quotation at the top of this post puts an emotional stamp on the issue. Losing someone we love leaves a hole that is never filled. Losing them without a trace – presumed dead but never quite certain – must be hell indeed.

"404 Page Not Found" is a sterile metaphor for this heart wrenching experience. But in some ways it is apt. The connection is still there and always will be. A door we can never quite close.

Let us cherish those we hold dear and not let the business of life come between us. For if, God forbid, the 404 message appears – we'll be left grasping at air.

~ 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.

COURAGEOUS DECISIONS ON THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

~ Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken

Hmmm, how fine is the margin of error that governs our lives and how should that influence the choices we make?

My route home from work on Dixie Road takes me past the backside of Pearson International Airport. There is a landing runway that starts only a couple of hundred yards past Dixie. Occasionally, I pass by that runway as a passenger jet is coming in for a landing. Trust me when I say that the jet is disconcertingly low at that moment.

On Friday, the timing was such that a jet passed over the road at the exact moment I passed the runway. The jet blocked the sun casting a large and ominous shadow over my car. It seemed that I could practically lean out the window and spit on the cockpit. Yes, that's an exaggeration but at the moment it seemed nearly possible.

It struck me how fine the margin of error was that protected me at that moment. If the pilot made a slight miscalculation in descending… or if the calibration of the high tech equipment, which the pilot depends on. was off by just a fraction … or if the engines should lose power for just a few seconds… I would be road kill in the blinking of an eye.

There are many circumstances in our daily lives where a few seconds one way or the other makes a monumental difference.

That split second decision we make when the stop light turns to yellow. Should I brake hard and stop hoping that the person tailgating me can stop too? Or speed up and run through it hoping that the car waiting to turn left isn't second guessing my intention?

The face in the crowd which strikes a chord in me for reasons unknown. Should I shrug it off and keep going or stop and engage her in conversation? Perhaps she is "the one" and this random encounter is the one and only time our paths will cross.

Should I give a few dollars to that person panhandling on the sidewalk? Are they a "professional beggar" with more in their bank account than me? Or are they a downtrodden soul whose will to carry on hangs on one simple act of kindness?

There are several conclusions I could draw from this contemplation. Live each day to the fullest. Follow your dreams. Listen to your instincts. All of them are valid. But the one that calls out to me is this: Be true to yourself.

For some of us, being true to one's self takes us down the busy road where we always have company.

For others, it means taking the road less traveled by which is often the more difficult one. More potholes. More blind corners. Less chances to stop and rest. Frequent stretches where we walk it alone. But, in a life where a single decision can define our fate, the road less traveled by is the only one that will get us where we need to go.

So let us embrace Frost's "The Road Less Taken" metaphor and make our choices courageous ones. The thin margin of error that governs our lives demands nothing less.

~ 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.

On the Hunt for Integrity in the Federal Election Free-For-All

Hmmm, should we vote with our heads or our hearts? Should we vote for someone or against someone?

I really didn't want to write about the pending federal election. I'm battling a wall of cynicism on that front that has been building for some time. Apparently I'm not alone.

I just did the daily poll on MSN. "Have you been following the federal election coverage?" I voted honestly: No. Turns out 63% of Canadians are not following it. Yes, I know these random polls are not scientifically valid. But in this case, I'm betting it is a pretty fair gauge of the public mindset.

No doubt this disinterest is, at least in part, election fatigue. It will be our fourth federal election in less than seven years. All our federal governments in that time frame have been minority governments. No one party or party leader has captured our hearts or our minds sufficiently to bring us to a measurable consensus.

I will vote on election day. I consider it my civic duty no matter how disenchanted I am with the options available. The problem I am grappling with is: What criteria do I use to make my decision?

I've gone out of my way to avoid the election advertising because it seems bent on convincing me I should vote against someone. The Tory party ads vilify Michael Ignatieff. The Liberal Party ads do the same to Stephen Harper. In any other context than an election, this kind of character bashing would be tantamount to slander.

I will continue to avoid this advertising because, quite honestly, it disgusts me. Rather than convince me to vote one way or the other, this "bash the other guy" free-for-all is likely to convince me not to vote at all. Voter turnout rates speak for themselves. Since 1960, the percentage of the voting age population that has turned out to vote in Canadian federal elections has ranged from 37% to 63%.

So how will I make my decision? First and foremost, I'll do my best to tune out the party leaders and their predictable rhetoric. Oh yes, I'll watch the leaders' debate when it comes around. I feel I must even though their behaviour will most likely be more appropriate for a UFC mixed martial arts battle than a political debate.

But more importantly, I'll make a point of checking out the local candidates in my riding. I'll evaluate their platforms and what they purport to stand for. But, in the final analysis, what I will be looking for is one thing: Integrity.

Make me believe that you truly believe in what you are saying – and that standing behind those principles is more important to you than winning or losing. Do that and you'll have my vote.

On my way to work a couple of weeks ago, I saw a shopping chart abandoned by the roadside. The person using it couldn't be bothered to return it once he or she was finished with it. That is, unfortunately, the metaphor that seems most appropriate for elections in this day and age. A candidate's election promises are a disposable commodity to be cast aside once victory is achieved.

I'm looking for the candidate who will keep pushing the same cart whether he or she wins or loses. Integrity is hard to come by these days and may well be the kiss of death for a politician with ambition. But ambition doesn't impress me. Integrity does.

~ 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.

Cultivating the Art of Being Prufrock

There will be time, there will be time

To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;

There will be time to murder and create,

And time for all the works of days and hands

That lift and drop a question on your plate;

Time for you and time for me

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot, 1917

Hmmm, shall I heed the advice of T.S. and slow the pace of my life to a comfortable stroll? And if I do, will there be time for the works of my days and hands?

Society moves forward with such relentless and unforgiving single-mindedness in these fractured times. The mantra of our era seems to be: If you're not moving ahead every waking moment, you are doomed to fall hopelessly behind.

But I wonder. Is falling behind so bad after all? Perhaps the lost art of lingering is in fact a gift of grace. One that we have kicked aside and trampled as we dodge and weave in the midst of the daily stampede.

I'm inclined to stop and pick up that discarded gift. Dust it off, smooth out the edges and place it back on the pedestal it was meant to rest upon.

Consciously and deliberately slow my steps as I set foot upon the trail. Catch the fragrance of the pines as it quivers in the breeze. Take time to watch the ambling flutter of the Pink-edged Sulphur as it gently prances the way only butterflies can.

Stroll toward the grove of flowering trees and listen for the buzz-buzz of the honey bee as it goes about its business quite oblivious of me. Stop to watch the splash-of-sunlight Yellow Warbler as it flits from branch to branch.

Meander up the gentle slope and allow myself to be distracted by the stitch-stitch-stitch flight of a Darner Dragonfly. Sit down in the middle of the path. Watch it zigzagging here and there and not move until it has a mind to perch and rest.

Amble on into Cool Hollow. Stake out a position to watch for the Canada Warbler, with its golden breast and jaunty necklace, that seems disposed to drop by here now and then. And while in waiting for this favourite visitor, listen to the gurgling warble of the House Wren that never tires of singing.

In time, make my way around the bend pausing to admire the swallows cavorting overhead. Wander down to the beach. Sit on a piece of driftwood and listen to the waves as they tip toe and retreat, tip toe and retreat, over pebbles in the sand.

And then, when the mood strikes, wander down to the marsh and simply take it in. Kingfishers diving for minnows. Great Blue Herons stalking the shallows. Gaudy wood ducks drifting lazily amongst the lily pads. The metallic green elegance of an American Emerald flashing in the sunlight.

If I could find the patience to take an entire day for these simple pleasures all within a few hundred yards, perhaps then falling behind would seem a foolish thing to fear.

Metaphors, I've learned, are seldom in a hurry. So I will cultivate the art of being Prufrock. Slowing down and matching myself to natural rhythms. Perhaps then, there will be time, there will be time… to spin some metaphors of my own.

~ 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: The 'Big Moon' on Spring's Eve

Hmmm, did you look skyward last night to gaze upon the 'big moon' as it rose to majesty in the March sky? And did that striking vision give you cause to reflect?

The "big moon" is a rare occurrence. It happens when the full moon coincides with the moon's closest point in its orbit of the earth. Last night was the first time in eighteen years that this convergence has occurred.

The moon appears brighter and larger at this time than any other. Scientists tell us that this is simply an optical illusion – a trick of perspective that our brains fail to decipher.

But I think they may be missing the point in their quest for scientific integrity. It may just be that this rare and awe inspiring sight is a gift.

At a time when our world has been rocked – quite literally, in Japan's case – by tragedy and turmoil, the 'big moon' may be a symbol offered to us. An enchanted illumination to echo a night when the divine became human and offered us rebirth.

The 'big moon' on spring's eve – a random act of metaphor to remind us that we are not alone and that, in our darkest hours, there is always one who watches over us.

~ 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.