walks

BEFALL:
verb: (used without object), befell, befallen,befalling.
to happen or occur.
to come, as by right.
3.verb: to happen to, especially by chance or fate.

I have become aware of late, that I am a pain in the Universal ass.

I suppose I always knew it, I suspected as much, but today I feel that it has become an undisputed fact.

You see, when I take off on my morning walks, one of the first things I ask the Universe, besides helping me to sidestep the dog poo; is to give me a message — hey guys… you know what I want — show me something I need to know!

That means the Universe has to put down its coffee, get dressed, and pay attention to…me.
The pain in the ass.

If you follow me regularly you are well aware that most days I get jack-nuthin’, (the Universe gets caught up in an article on the Huffington Post) while other times I actually receive some answers in the form of a cryptic haiku on a Post It, a tiny gnome village or a bird-strike omen — you know, the usual.

Anytime I spy something out of the ordinary I pick it up, truly convinced that it holds a message just for me, and today was no different.

It seems our entire neighborhood is under construction these days, developers tearing down the smaller, quaint, 1930’s homes to throw up another two-story, Leave It To Beaver style behemoth.

At eight in the morning the streets are lined with construction trucks, roach coaches…and men. Lots and lots of virile young men.

Now, as a woman, I have a kind of built-in shame meter that makes me automatically cross the street when I see men in tool belts and hard hats. All those years of wolf whistles and cat calls have trained me well.
The thing is, I am no longer the age where I elicit that sort of display of machismo. I am just south of sixty, and even though I am still technically a woman, I’m sure I am older than most of their mothers.

These days they are polite, they smile at me and say “good morning” like I’m their fucking grandma in yoga pants. I haven’t heard anything resembling a catcall in over ten years; (she says with immense resentment) yet, still I run. Middle aged wishful thinking I suppose.
Anyhow…
This cruddy, yellow flash card caught my attention as I jumped up on the curb after sprinting across the street to avoid a construction crew and their catcalls.

I actually ran past it in my zealousness to escape the nonexistent wolf whistles, but once I had seen it I knew I had to take my chances and double back around to find out what it was. When I bent over to retrieve the card I made sure my ass was pointed in the opposite direction of the men, you know, so as not to tease them.

It was the flash card pictured above. It has the word “befall” in middle-school-aged boy scrawl, with a couple of the definitions on the back.

It was trash day yesterday so I’m pretty sure the card had just escaped its fate by falling on the ground. I have to tell myself that to override any guilt I have about sabotaging some kid’s English final by hijacking card #2 with the word befall on it.

Technically I was picking up litter, so calm down.

Befall. What an old-fashioned, Elizabethan kind of word.

“What fate will befall you Janet Bertolus?”
Can’t you guys just hear those words spoken by a handsome King, who wants me to be his Queen (naturally) as I ride off into the sunset on a white horse with a young construction worker who has found me irresistible? Yeah, me neither.

My immediate reaction? Foreboding. Like it was a warning.
But when you throw down a word like BEFALL Universe, you get me thinking. And then I remembered the bird strike, and omens, and the fact that sometimes things that SEEM awful…aren’t.

What if it’s foretelling something magical that’s going transpire by chance or fate? What if befall means: to come as if by right — like I’m entitled to everything wonderful?
Much better, right?

“Great success was to befall Janet Bertolus in the very near future.” Oh, I like that one.

So you guys, what if you were as big of a pain in the ass as I am, and you asked for a sign from the Universe? What word do you think you’d get? Remember, these guys are tricky — nothing is ever obvious.

What fate will BEFALL you this fine weekend? A trip? A graduation? A great meal? The time to curl up with a good book?
More importantly, what are you entitled to?

Aren’t you liking the word BEFALL more and more? I am.

Carry on,
xox

I’m certain my face looked identical to this! LOl!

I was startled Wednesday; on my walk; by a bird…who flew at full speed into my left shoulder and then kept going. Apparently it had a full morning and no manners.

I walk with earphones, traversing the neighborhood in a kind of meditation stupor so you can imagine my surprise when something hit me from behind.

I would have LUUUUVED to have seen my face. I’m certain it was an attractive mixture of what-the-hell surprise and indignation.
I think I may have even yelped…and done a skip-kick.

Some would have called it a scream-cry, although it wasn’t; it was the WTF yulp of a middle-aged woman in yoga pants, with arms weights and boob sweat, chugging along at eight thirty in the morning, minding her own business and smiling at dogs.

In other words, just another fitness failure trying to get some cardio in by walking ten thousand steps in order to stave off writer’s ass.

I gotta tell ya it stopped me in my tracks, (I kept my feet moving while I looked around, in order to keep my heart rate up, YO!) but there were no witnesses to my hit and fly, so I just shrugged and kept on movin’.

Since you know me by now and the fact that I can’t take ANYTHING at face value, I made a metal note to look up “personal bird strike” when I got home. But since my brain is currently made of swiss cheese…I promptly forgot.

Upon returning home I got sidetracked into bringing in the trash bins, sweeping the patio, looking at old recipes, and trimming dead fronds off of the ferns that frame the fountain by the back deck off of our bathroom. That fountain then reminded me in a not-so-friendly-way that it needed to be cleaned. Badly. It gurgled my name, taunting me: Janet…come on…don’t keep ignoring me…stop being an ass…please…clean me…

What was once a lovely, melodic stream of water is now an anemic, name calling trickle, due to a filter that looks like the lungs of a three pack a day smoker. Clogged, black and ineffective.

Three weeks ago I had laid out the rubber gloves and bucket and then lost my enthusiasm for the project and left them there to remind me. So, the supplies were there and I had the time, which meant I got to work emptying the water one bucketful at a time in order to get to the leaves at the bottom and give the filter a fighting chance.

The reason I’m telling you this is: Midway through the scooping of the water — out comes a dead bird. A small, (not a baby) obviously not so bright, brown bird. I’ve observed them bathing and drinking in that fountain for years, so, unless this was a suicide, or a contract hit, this guy had not been the sharpest tool in the shed.

And it made me wonder: What the fuck is the thing with birds today? I can go years, no make that decades, without a bird incident; so I immediately ran inside to look it up lest I see something shiny and forget once again.

There is a ton written on birds hitting widows, planes, and cars, but people — not so much. And when they do, they usually hit them in the head, often to weigh in on a morning of bad bed-head by grabbing a few stands and some scalp for their nest or to warn them away from their hatchlings.

MY bird was nowhere near my head.
Maybe he was trying to grab me under the arm and carry me to his nest; or in order to fashion a cape for me like the birds in Snow White, he was trying to get my arm length measurements.
The jury is still out.

The inter-web also mentions the fact that sometimes birds just don’t see the things they fly into — like I’m invisible. Not a real boost to my self-esteem.

I posted on Facebook: On my walk this morning a small bird flew into the back of my left shoulder and then kept going without so much as a “Pardon Me”. What do you think, texting while flying or an Omen?

When I looked it up here’s what THEY say about Omens:
“Everything is an omen, really.(We knew that) There is a reason for everything, nothing happens by accident. We just need to learn to realize these omens and how to interpret them easily. The more “wild” the omen, the more “dramatic” the outcome, or so it would seem.

Many people feel that birds represent freedom, as they can soar up into the sky where there are no obstacles and go wherever they wish, and then return to the Earth once more. Also because of this I suppose you could view them as almost having two aspects: one that departs and one that returns. What that means to you is up to you. Also, one could consider birds as messengers. Some view them as messengers to the gods. There is a phrase that begins, “a little bird told me…” (I thought that started with my seventh grade teacher Miss Law who was sneakily trying to get to the truth of a math quiz scandal)
To me, birds also represent awareness, since they can soar above almost anything on this planet and can witness everything–taking place outside, at least. They are like the wind. They start out one place and end up in another, carrying stories and memories with them.”

Okay…Kind of a stretch, but I get that everything is an omen, so I looked up dead bird and here’s the message there:

These beautiful animals are actually messengers from the Divine, Spirit, Universe, God, whatever name you choose. The message is not one of doom and gloom, you are not going to die in the next three days, it is not a “forerunner” of death and destruction. (Well, THAT’S a relief.)
Dead birds are actually very similar to the “Death” card in a tarot deck. It represents a death, but it is a death of something you have been focused on. It could be the death or “end” of a bad relationship, or a bad financial situation, or a behaviour pattern you have been wanting to break, etc. And with all things that end, the way is then clear for new opportunities to come into your life. (Yippee)
For instance, if you are in an unhealthy relationship, it is unlikely that a new healthy relationship is going to come into your life if you are still involved or healing from the unhealthy one. Once you have dealt with it and are ready to move on, the universe will send you a message to let you know that it is now time to move forward with your life.
That is what these dead birds are, a message that whatever you were dealing with is now “dead” and behind you and you are now ready to move forward with the new opportunity that has been presenting itself to you but that you have been ignoring for some reason. So, see the sign, and determine what message it is sending you and be grateful that you have now received the message and start looking for the new opportunity.
http://pathwayconnection.com/what-does-seeing-dead-birds-mean/

As I’ve written about lately, there are SO MANY endings and beginnings for me right now that this makes perfect sense — and I know that a bunch of you guys are going through the same thing, so take my bird omen and run (fly) with it.

What is mine is yours, as always — you’re welcome!

Do you believe in omens or animal totems? Got a story you’d like to share? Think this is all a big bag of bullshit?

Carry on,
xox

Thank you sidewalk snail races.

For reminding me to sloooooooow down; life’s not a race to a far away imaginary finish line.

For showing me the beauty in looking down — there’s some awesome shit happening below my feet.

For nature and all the wonderful things it can teach us IF we pay attention.

For demonstrating once again that it’s the journey that counts and in the case of snails and destinations — Determination…slow and steady. Slow and steady. Don’t show off.

For also reminding me not to worry — about anything — after all, you have all you need traveling right along with you inside that shell. (at least you do in MY imagination)

And thank you so much my slithery friends for taking your fearless Saturday stroll, amid the pedestrians and dogs and rascally kids, in MY neighborhood.

And remember: keep walking and stay out of my garden.

Have a wonderful Sunday you guys; filled with long walk, friends and gratitude.

Carry on,
xox

Morning!
Never one to ignore my own advise,(insert laughter here) I was diligently following my “path” as it appeared beneath my feet while walking the boxer-shark puppy yesterday.

One foot in front of the other, that’s it.
Look at the beautiful day, smell the fog in the air, be present,open your eyes, pay attention…oh what’s that?

We had vaulted past a Post It with bright orange writing that was laying in the wet grass.
Let’s be honest here, we zoomed past it because the puppy was walking me – ugh, work in progress, Work. In. Progress.(Said with a tightly clenched jaw.)

Something in my head said Go back, it has something to say to you.

Yeah, sure it does. Eggs, milk, cheese, coffee.

But I’m nothing if not obedient to these little “hits” I get, so I swung the puppy around like ball of legs and teeth on a string, and went to retrieve the soaking wet note, eager to garner its wisdom.

That’s the picture I took before picking it up.

Kites are overrated, if you fly them too high a bird might think it is a (colored) seagull, and try to kiss it.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but a cryptic teenage haiku was pretty far down on the list.

I shoved the note into my pocket and laughed all the way home.
I love when something surprises me and makes me laugh. Especially in the morning. It’s hard to find anything funny before 9 a.m.

So…
Musings of a tweenage girl…
I’m not sure I agree because as you can see below, I enjoy a good kite flight.

But the idea of a seagull kiss, well, what overrated kite doesn’t want one of those!
Keep your eyes and minds open my peeps, our paths can be very entertaining.

Happy day y’all!
Carry on,
Xox

That’s me flying a kite last spring. Just because.