My friend the creeper is back, in case you were wondering.
The name’s Creeper. Brown Creeper.
‘Tis the season apparently.
Thankfully, she/he/they – I haven’t inquired as to the bird’s preferred pronouns – doesn’t seem obsessed with flinging her/his/itself against my bedroom window repeatedly, nor does she/he/they seem fond of singing at the top of her/his/their lungs early in the morning.
Some days it seems like the entire world has gone mad, doesn’t it? It feels like we’re collectively flinging ourselves into a closed window over and over, hoping to get a different result.
Extending love and grace to all has been requiring more conscious effort, when often it had become second nature. I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.
I do know this article I found while Googling “compassion fatigue” expresses my feelings fairly well. A really interesting deep dive into the issue.
And with that, I have to get out of here for a trip to the happiest place on earth, i.e. Target. My neti pot flung itself onto the floor and cracked. (Okay, maybe I bumped into the cabinet it was on.) If you know me, you know how important it is that it be replaced immediately.
Peace out, girl scouts. Maybe I’ll find some grace or love or compassion or at least self-care at the store. I’ll keep you posted.
