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The Next Best Thing

I was out and about early today. The sun was only so high when I decanted at Brunswick Forest for my morning constitutional. And I could imagine no better day for it. Even so, the usual serenity was missing; the heart was troubled.
 
Not long after arriving, as I neared the lake, I began thinking happy thoughts about the egrets, the herons, and all creatures great and small that reside nearby, but as the minutes passed, I became increasingly attuned to the sounds coming from the construction site on the other side of the treeline.

Queen Boudica of the Iceni 

How much destruction must we endure in the name of progress, is the question I asked myself. I took a deep breath. I took another. I focused my attention on the tranquil surface of the lake, hoping to mirror that serenity on the surface of my mind. It was a bust. Tranquility was nixed by the sounds of heavy progress. 

Princess Amy, as I'm sure you've surmised, took it big. And it will come as no surprise that she made sure I took it bigger, and when I do that, it's generally bigger than most.

I reminded myself that one must ask a higher power for serenity to accept what can't be changed. Courage, on the other hand, is required for making changes where one can. However, in circumstances like those described above, it requires all the courage I can muster to simply remain still.

What I really wanted to do was shout and leap about like my Celtic ancestors must have done when Caesar brought his legions to the shores of Britain for spring break. I was no doubt being influenced more than I realized by Amy who behaved like Boudica must have done when she first saw the Roman eagle on the beaches of Cornwall.

I've been told that I over-react to Amy's influence because of my artistic nature. The idea is that artists are sensitive spirits and are affected more strongly than pedestrians. Maybe. Who knows?

No matter the reason for my anxiety, I knew that I must contact a higher power for advice and counsel. I immediately left the path that follows the lake and ankled instead on the path leading to the Rock. Not that Rock!

You remember the rock from a previous post where I described my discovery that the psalmist, David, referred to his god as a rock. I realize that the man was a poet but I can overlook that in a best-selling author like David. 

The message given to me on my visit with the aforementioned Rock was (no surprise here either) to take proper steps through the proper channels. It's the path of all right-thinking people. It has been the solution to countless problems since solutions were invented. And so, it was for me the work of a moment to phone the Witch of Woodcroft. 

The witch hasn't figured much in recent posts, so you may want to search for her in earlier missives.

The idea was to enlist the aid of a top-notch fuss budget to make sure that the proper complaints were filed with the Universe and to do that without becoming personally steamed up and combustible. And I know of no bigger f. b. than Gladys Ironarrow. 

Oh please! So many comments coming in now asking, Gladys who? Throw your mind back and you'll remember her. If not, you can click on the link below but don't do it now! Finish this post first.

As soon as I had the cottage witch on the phone, I put her in possession of all the pertinent facts. Her first response was to tell me that I was worked up over minor infractions of the human race due to me being, as she put it so succinctly, barking-at-the-moon batshit crazy.

It goes without saying that this was not the response I was looking for. I told her about the OSHA backup signals but her response to that was one of cold condemnation. No good, of course. Not hot enough.

I told her about the golf course poisoners of weeds and whatnot and she warmed up a bit in her complaints but not with any real enthusiam.

I reminded her of the inalienable rights of animals, trees, worms, and microbes. I mentioned specifically the rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That did the trick. The thought catapulted her into a higher dimension where she hotted up to incadescense.

Suddenly I could relax. I leaned back against a tree and propped my feet up on a nearby stump. The sun was warm, the sky blue, and the coffee still hot. I could enjoy the egrets, the herons, the mallards, et. al., while Gladys gave the Universe a piece of her mind.

Some days it just doesn't get any better than doing the best you can with what you've got.