Wednesday, March 10, 2010

The Trap of Struggle (Part 1)

If there were no struggle to life it wouldn't be any fun.  If gravity didn’t fight against us our muscles would atrophy.    We are designed to struggle.  In a zen Buddhist meditative kind of way I think the struggle is good, because it reminds us that we're alive.  We should feel honored for the opportunity to be here and struggle.  That being said, the fight of life can be a bit of a drag.  It can wear on your patience.  As with all things, moderation, you know?
So I'm going to surrender a few of my struggles here to focus on the battles I have a chance of winning.
To the mouse:
Look, I'm sorry.  I know it was a sneaky trick.  I didn't mean to toy with your expectations.  For the record I'm not a mean person. Though, when the jaws of death snapped on whatever appendage it did, I'm sure it seemed like it.  I think I speak for myself, all mouse trap users, as well as the makers of the trap, when I say, you have exceeded all estimations of your will to live.  When I try and picture you dragging the whole trap back down there behind the wall, you look a little like Rambo.  I’m really amazed you could fit.  
Dude.  I'm impressed.  But now what?
Did you go to your family and show them mankind's handiwork in the hopes that they could free you, or to attend your own wake fully conscious and die in the comfort of home?  In the event that your brethren do free you from the trap I would like to discourage you from building one large enough for me.  It's just going to be difficult for you in a logistical sense, scale being what it is.  Also it might be hard deciding what to lay out as bait since my tastes are so mercurial and eccentric.  I've heard you all behind the walls.  I know you’re engaged in some heavy duty construction or destruction.  It’s almost Spring just let go of the struggle and move on.
To the kids:
I know you're siblings and there's a universal law that you will always argue, especially in front of me.  Lalalalalala! I can't hear you.  I'm going to give you lots of time to use your working it out skills while I jam my fingers in my ears.  Tell me when it's over.
To the laundry:
I know I’ll never win in the endless battle against your multitudes.  I'm going to re-envision the battle though.  I'm going to see the laundry as a tide that rises and falls.  I am the laundry ninja with the waxing and waning of the bleaching and staining.  Well that’s not exactly ninja-ish.  Hmm. I’ll sneak up on my own procrastination skills and Wa Tah!  The folding and sorting will be accomplished with a series of chopping motions and my cat like reflexes.  The point is I’m not going to let it bother me anymore.
To the stinkbugs:
You’re so deceptive.  The clumsy flying, the plodding aimless walk, like something prehistoric and stupid across my floor, up my coffee cup; you beg to be destroyed.  But that’s the trick isn’t it?  You’ll keep coming no matter how many we kill.  We will go crazy catching and killing, and the bills will go unpaid, the work left undone, society will fall to ruin and you will win.  I’m not going out like that. I’m going to surrender in the struggle against you individually so that I won’t succumb to your evil plot.
To the internet:
I’m not going to let it drive me crazy when I can’t access you.  I’m going to view it as an opportunity to focus on the present, to tune into my environment.  The times when I can log on will be a pleasant treat. 
Like now.  The kids are out of sight and most importantly out of earshot.  The laundry is far away and this room seems free of the stinkbug invasion. I have a comfortable spot and internet access..  It’s a pleasant treat and I’m just going to relax and enjoy it.
What is that?  My goodness, is that a pirate mouse?  It’s so small it’s hard to see, but it looks like it has a peg leg.  What is he doing?  Is he signaling to someone behind me?  What the   –SNAP.    

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