Dear Anita,

I spend a lot of time in my head. It’s a squirrelly place up there. I tend to get lost.

I read a lot. Books and articles and opinion pieces. Then I catastrophize. Always with the catastrophizing. About different things. Political agendas that I’m sure spell out our certain doom, scientific data regarding climate change or education or poverty, and of course my myriad personal/interrelational dramas. When I have run the gamut, the real party starts: the catastrophizing about the catastrophizing.

Very few things seem to halt this cycle: near-death highway misses, adorable dog gifs (preferably featuring corgis…did you see the recent compilation of the Queen’s pack?!), and of course the other grande dame herself, Mother Nature. I, obviously, prefer the latter two, but I have to purposefully seek the corgi gifs, Mother Nature’s distractions often arrive as a slap to the face, a bolt from the blue.

As her most recent marvel did so recently. While returning home from a stop to Jack ‘n the Box (don’t judge) I was stopped at a long light two blocks from home. I was hungry and irritable and catastrophizing about letting my blood sugar get too low and then catastrophizing about how eating fast food would wreak havoc on my blood sugar anyway and then I looked up.

It had been a gray morning. The clouds more sheets of ephemera than great billows of white. And now the sun was caught and diffused by another passing ghost and appeared completely haloed in color. The sun, crowned so perfectly in rainbow, followed loyally by his prism dog.

Rare enough to invoke quiet in my roaring head space, beautiful enough to move me to eat my lunch in the car, looking up. Allowing me to return to my day, a little better than before.

(A little less) Squirrelly,


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