Wednesday Wonder
I think squirrels are cute, except when they crawl into my attic and die. I would say they are intriguing little creatures, unless they are chewing through the electric insulation of my power lines to the house. And I don’t even mind them rooting around in my back yard, except, that is, when they ascend the pole that leads to my bird feeder and eat everything in sight. And that’s what gave rise to the brilliant, but presently unpatented “Squirrel-Be-Gone” plastic shield.
This ingenious invention began by adapting a clear plastic flower pot tray so that it clamps around the pole immediately beneath the bird house. When a highly motivated squirrel shimmies up the pole the first thing he encounters is a ceiling of plastic that is too slick and flexible for his little hands to grasp. If certain people hit the glass ceiling in their places of work our squirrels hit the plastic ceiling in our back yard.
They scamper to the base of the pole, look about to scout out predators, and then leap onto the pole like jumping from a burning building. Then up, up, up they go until … they look around, their little eyes darting to and fro, looking for an entrance, but no. Do not pass go, do not collect the bird seed. Not even St. Patrick can help you now.
I am tempted to write this all off to their walnut sized brains. That could be a factor, of course. But it’s not only brain power, I know. And that’s because we humans tend to do the same thing.
How many of us repeat the same behavior that may have worked for us in the past, even though the rules have changed? Then the plastic shield is installed. “Human-Be-Gone” is in place but it takes a while for us to detect it. And then, even if we do know that things have changed, we keep on climbing the pole. Maybe that barrier won’t be there this time. If I climb frequently enough, repeat the pattern, maybe it will just disappear.
Spiritual awareness is about becoming aware of the shield, accepting it, redefining our inclination to climb the pole anyway, and turning to another way in which we are not blocked. It inevitably means abandoning a pointless living that can only take us to the wrong places. We are called to so much more. And it feels so good to abandon the dead end pole.
Of course, we sometimes need to experience the fruitlessness of climbing the pole to discover this. And even some squirrels find that out. One day a squirrel stood on the ground, looked upward at in the inaccessible birdhouse, and said, “I hate that guy in the house and what he’s done to us. How long do you think he is going to keep climbing his unreal poles?” Who asked for his blatant honesty, anyway? This is about him, not me. Isn’t it?
