Mirage

Every morning after waking up in my drey I look at the walnut tree. Every morning I spend some time just looking and it. And every morning it looks different. I cannot help but ask myself why. Is it the weather? 

Of course things look different on a grey and rainy day than on a sunny day when the sky is blue. The light is different. 

Of course trees look different in spring when they are blossoming - and in summer when they are shining in lime-green and the leaves are illuminated by the sun. In autumn a tree is colourful and shows off with its yellow and red leaves that fall down and form a soft carpet on the ground. And in winter a tree is either white and full of snow or grey on a rainy day. 

But that is not it. I feel like I see things differently depending on my mood. It is as if I wake up with a different pair of eyes every morning, because someone changed my eyes while I was sleeping. I wonder which appearence of my surroundings is real. Do things change all the time or does our perception change? Can we see the truth of every tiny organism and object or do we merely see a mirage every day that our mind is making up to play tricks on us? 

Does my walnut tree even exist? And if yes, how is it? What is the actual truth of it? And will I ever be able to see it? Or am I part of the mirage and I am something different...maybe I myself am the tree. The tree that changes its colours and shape every day, that is part of the illusion that is the world. And that may or may not exist. To me, to you, to all of us. 

Just a flare?

Rain. Wind. Storm. It is cold; it is dark. Everything is shaking; changing; nothing is as it seems. Life is but an image in a puddle. One moment it is there, the other it is gone forever. And nothing remains.

No one cares, so I have to care for myself. I have to keep my balance. Otherwise the tree branch I am sitting on will give in and I fall down. Deep down. And no one will know. Not even myself. The wind whispers some secrets I do not understand. This is not helping me. I have to be strong. I cannot fall down. My image in the puddle below has to remain a little bit longer.

Somehow it does not feel right. I need to go, there is something waiting for me. I am leaving but my shadow behind. Strength. Strong will.

The time has come. Only the wind knows. And he is blowing strong. He has made up his mind.

 

Ambiguity in times of certainty

There are still many nuts in my garden, I do not have to fall asleep being hungry. The walnut tree offers me enough food, I do not have to worry about that. Lady Squirrel is with me, we spend time together. I like that. Especially in winter it is reassuring to have someone close so that the days do not feel so miserable. But there are moments when I want to be alone - when I need to concentrate on myself, when I need to eat a nut quietly. I then let Lady Squirrel do whatever she wants to do. My mates keep their Lady Squirrels close. I am not sure if that is the right decision. I know that the chance is bigger that I end up being alone because Lady Squirrel might find other things more interesting and chooses to leave me. 
But I cannot control other creatures. You cannot chance them by keeping them too close. So my task is to live with that understanding and see what the future holds. 
The key is to get along with oneself. So I calm down and eat another nut. If Lady Squirrel waits for me in the drey later that day, I will be delighted. If not, I probably have known it ever since.