Friday, April 15, 2016

Spring Fever and Riding the High Horse

Last week as soon as I finished writing you dear ones, I raced outside to pull the towels off the line because it was snowing little ice pellets. They felt like little scud missiles lancing my body as I hurried to get the towels off the line and into the dryer.

But this week it's officially spring! Just look at these gorgeous white Magnolias in full bloom.

Boy do I have spring fever. I looked up spring fever on Wikipedia, apparently it's a real thing. Characterized by both a feeling of vitality and a feeling of malaise. The condition is variable, in my expert opinion, depending on whether the sun is





Shinning like this as you greet the day, or


a day with driving rain, high winds and cold. When the days are longer, but cold and cloudy apparently our hormones are at war with each other and can leave us feeling a little "off".

Which could explain the past week when I've been riding the high horse of righteous indignation.



Three times in the last week, (but who's counting?)  I've mounted this fine steed because of misunderstanding, or a certain snotty tone, or being yelled at because I've asked a (innocent) question. Each time I was "off to the races" going over in my own mind the "wrong" actions of the other person.  After the third incident, my steed was getting a little winded. Once I slowed down enough to really think through each situation, I could  see my role more clearly.

In each case the other person's great sin was in challenging my ego, or in fact letting a little of the hot air out of the gas bag that is my ego. In almost every case I could have chosen to de-escalate, extend some compassion to the other person and to myself, or to shrug it off and let it go.  But no, I chose to do a running mount on said high horse, I'm not nearly as graceful as Roy Rogers with his running mount of Trigger. Imagine Pooh Bear trying to run, mount the ladder to this horse and you'll have some idea of how ridiculous the whole situation was.

It's true isn't it? World peace starts in our own hearts.  And my heart this past week has been the site of some ugly name calling and recriminations, starting with other people, but coming back to myself.

So yesterday I called a cease fire, climbed off my high horse and went to sit outside in the sunshine and warmth.


I drove several miles out into the country to Hickory Hills Park. Sitting in the warmth and sunshine did a lot to rebalance my hormones and extend an olive branch to myself and the others involved in the dust-ups.


Isn't this a magnificent Hickory? It's twisting, gnarly branches remind me that life shapes us in interesting ways.  Riding my high horse isn't fatal, but it's good to climb down, slow down and appreciate all of the beauty around me.

I went out to the park on a mission to try drawing from real life, inspired by the work of One Day One Sketch - Jens Huebner



Lovely aren't they? Here's what I managed to do:



I've got a ways to go.  And that's the good news dear ones. We've all got aways to go.  In the meantime we can climb off the high horse, pour ourselves a cup of tea, sit in the warmth and sunshine and extend a little compassion and forgiveness to ourselves and then to others.

It must start within our own heart because we can only do for others what we are willing to do for ourselves. If we can't extend a little love and care to ourselves, how can we offer anything to others?

Having filled up my own bucket with sunshine and compassion here is a little love and spring from me to you this week. Enjoy!

White Magnolia with crab apple

The azalea is ready to bloom (or is it a rhododendron? I always get them mixed up).

You know it's "officially" spring when the street sweepers start spring cleaning.

The first periwinkle bloom!

The lenten roses just keep getting prettier and prettier each week.

Wishing you springtime, sunshine, flowers, bird song and all happiness this week.  



1 comment :

  1. Thanks for sharing a great high horse story. I'll try to climb off my steed as well.

    ReplyDelete