Chipmunks are singing—Reflections on a Warmer Day

Yesterday, all the messages in my Yahoo inbox disappeared. My other folders remained intact but the six--hundred inbox messages: gone.

Yahoo had no explanation. My friends were baffled. No one could explain why this had happened. But strange events always happen to me.

Daily life is a weird dream that I watch and walk through.

I was raised Catholic but now I’m a Jungian. I believe in sychronicities and symbolism and the mythic realm. How should I interpret my disappearing files? Something lost or obliterated within myself?

Or maybe I’m too attached to interpreting? I cross a parking lot and there is a dead bird, lying near my car. I never see dead birds, but there it is, a cardinal, stiff. Later, as I meditate at the edge of a small pond, a huge, blue heron settles down on the other side. He seems to be watching me.

I know. I think too much. It is my dubious calling. To record the dramas exploding under everyday life.

(Chipmunks are chirping now. And eating squash seeds I’ve left for them.)

I’ve done some writing and the Voice is satisfied. For now. I’ve wrestled with my angels or demons. (Are they the same?)

(The chipmunk’s jowls are bulging with seeds.)