I’ve lived in the country for nearly 20 years, but sometimes I think I’m no longer cut out for it. My leg is still swollen and red from what we believe was a spider bite, and today, while I was out refreshing the animal’s water tank, a bee stung me on my right index finger (inside) when I reached for the water hose.
It was a painful sting, but I immediately put an ice cube on it, although my body and spirit were getting weary of this. My finger has swelled up, though.
I’m ready for the day to end and the weekend to begin. It’s been a perfect week for me, but a lousy day and two nights without sleep. There have been loads of support for our food pantry, my brace has been refitted, I don’t need to go to the hospital for my spider bites, and I finally insured my cameras from loss by theft or damage. It’s a great relief.
So I’m just going to say good night.
On a lighter note, I got a genuine laugh out of this letter from someone named Karma. I needed this.
Sometimes, you have to cry; sometimes, you have to laugh.
This was my favorite message of the week, a perfect nod to the insect bites and one of the quaintest things about social media: if somebody is down, kick them harder. It was from someone named Karma. I love Karma; I can only imagine her Karma if it’s her. She’s all about compassion.
She might have a point about the bathrobe, but Karma, wouldn’t shorts be just as bad? Thank the Lord they didn’t go farther up the leg.
Karma: Well, if you didn’t have to go outside in your robe (or nothing at all), you wouldn’t give all insects a field day…if only you had some of that grand old “common sense”…what makes you think people can’t live without your flower photos? Or blog, for that matter.?itch, scratch, itch…”
Itch indeed, Karma and scratch, too! I’m deep into both. Thanks for your good wishes. Do you mean people think they can live without my photos? I feel faint. Please don’t waste all of your empathy on me. And you forget to trash me for my typos: You are always welcome here. Sophocles wrote that grumpy people are the messengers of the Gods, but they should be heard. Gulp.
I can’t help but think about my message from Karma; there is something to the message, something genuine and thoughtful:
Hinduism identifies karma as the relationship between a person’s mental or physical action and the consequences following that action. I think the idea is if you wear a bathrobe out into a pasture on a farm, you are likely to get your butt zapped by a black fly, spider, or worse. Karma has a point if a bit rudely expressed.
Is there a penalty for cruelty? Lots of people on social media better hope not.
Karma suggests I deserved the bites. Or at least set them in motion.
But God said in the Kabalah that we are all blessed with the creative spark, and lighting it and following it are sacred gifts and obligations. I got some nasty bites, but I also got some beautiful photos. Karma does not credit that; she suggests that my flower thing is self-serving and delusional, a fantasy, unimportant when compared to a spider bite.
I thought I was a bit heroic.
How did I deserve the bee sting at the water bucket this afternoon?
I don’t run away from beautiful sunrise photos; I run to them. So, I got what I deserved, true. I’m willing, even proud, to pay the price. The bite will be gone by tomorrow, but the photos will live on for a good time, as will my ego and creative pride. I love making beautiful things or things I think are attractive.
Something to think about, always a gift. I’ll never hear from Karma again; people like that are hit-and-runners, and as a rule, they only look for short conversations or none at all. But I am thinking about it, and that says something.
She’s definitely not the everyday troll; there is hope for her. We could have had a real conversation if she had just had slightly better manners and a whiff of compassion.
It’s a shame. I am known for several things, but common sense has never been one of them.
Here are my favorite photos of the day. Good night, and blessings to you. I’ll be posting those damned life-affirming photos tomorrow.
Starting with a garden, Iris
I have no idea what these flowers are; I find them haunting and beautiful.
The colors are rich and connected.
To me, flowers are never alone.
