Time To Fly (2022 post-COVID musings)

In one day this week, not on purpose, I saw a young doe, a wandering cat, a spider, a chipmunk, a pheasant and a blue heron. On the same day, my son saw one lonely trumpeter swan floating down a catfish creek. It was an unusually productive day of wildlife sightings, even by Iowa standards. All these beautiful creatures made me feel lucky; what a great day.

Lucky Dove

Speaking of animals and being lucky, my brother is a funny guy. He’s really good at having a good time. During a beer-supported golf outing, his friend told him his golf ball flew like a dove, and a tradition was born. He was anointed “Dove” and his friends would furthermore be assigned appropriate animal names. There’s Bobcat and Bambi and Mamba, Lemur and Gazelle and Cheetah. His wife is Lion. I hung out with many of these people for years with no knowledge of their actual names.

You can’t just get an animal name. It has to be earned, inspired; my brother’s process can’t be rushed. I asked many times for my name. I told him because I’m his sister and he’s Dove that I needed a bird name. He suspiciously crowned me Peacock, while I not-so-secretly continue to lobby for Queztal.

Rising Like A Phoenix

Which brings me to the phoenix. Ancient Egyptian or Greek mythology (it’s a debate) claim the origin of the story of the majestic phoenix bird setting itself on fire and rising from the ashes anew, a story of rebirth, hope and renewal. For most of last year, I felt more like a fried chicken, burnt and left smoking like the un-eviscerated turkey in Christmas Vacation. Nothing was rising from the ashes except episodes watched on Netflix and days in athleisure wear.

I wrote week after week about digging out of my emotional ditch. If you were following along, you might remember such hits as “Will I Ever Feel Like Working Again?” and “Finding My North Star.”

Turkey’s Done

Well, I’m here to say, I did it. I had a great work week, motivated and excited, solving problems and creating things. I’ve been able to pick up the pace and get in the game. I wore pants and shoes to an office and was soothed by the boring carpet and blank walls. I was the last one home one night because I was in such a good groove.

My journal writing has included a long list of “things going well” column lately. I’ve been checking in more than checking out. All of the re-tooling has changed me. I feel solid and sturdy emotionally. Like the trees who grow under the windiest conditions, I easily handle the bend of daily breezes.

It is worth noting that after necessarily and completely unplugging for the better part of a year, I’m back. I think I understand the phoenix and her need to burn it all down, or at least shut it off and reset, to come back better. Like the legend, there is a time for change, for new beginnings. Maybe I’ll never get my wish of being Queztal, and I guess Peacock is not so bad, although peacocks aren’t great flyers. Phoenix has a nice ring to it. To quote the great REO Speedwagon, “Time for me to fly.”

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