Bigger is Better, Except When it's Not

Multicolored Asian Lady Beetle (Harmonia axyridis). A big name for a tiny creature!There's a reason we don't see 600 pound Chipmunks bolting across the lawn, or encounter amoebas the size of The Blob, or guard our summer evening tranquility from being punctured by mosquitoes cruising around on ten-foot wings: bigger is not always better. For that matter neither is being small or microscopic. Size is important relative to species and their ecological niche. It would not serve the survival of chipmunks as a species to be that large. Could you imagine them as big game animals?

When it comes to humans, some people live a very large life full of great adventures and bold achievement; others live a quiet obscure life in their own small niche. One path is not better or worse than the other. Each way has its unique set of challenges and triumphs. Each can make a contribution to the world, be it great or small.

In our society, many people are hypnotized by the rich and famous, or are themselves obsessed with trying to get famous – the internet is full of their attempts. Then there is the proliferation of reality TV shows. There are shows about competitive tow-truck drivers, competitive tornado-chasers, pest exterminators, junk yard bosses, and, for the love of God, "real housewives". It seems people will do anything for their 15-minutes of fame.  A microscopic organism swimming in pond water doesn't spend its brief life wishing it was a famously big fish, and a Hippopotamus isn't wallowing in self-loathing while dreaming of being a gazelle someday.

Our society is absolutely addicted to competition. Businesses and governments wield it as a tool to shape the marketplace, the job market, consumer behavior, and elections. It has seeped into every aspect of life to the point that some parents are already sweating their toddler's acceptance into "the best" kindergarten schools that will start their long journey to an Ivy-League University someday.

Just try going to a party without having anything exciting to offer those that inquire: "So, what do you do for a living?" Competitive pressure has its rightful place in the world, but it is not the only or even most important way to live. The person that honks their horn at you the very nano-second that the traffic light turns green is most likely consumed by a toxic impatience induced by an overly competitive culture.

When I was a child, I wanted to be an astronaut, a soldier, a priest, an explorer, and other such bold and prominent professionals. I never became any of those because I was meant to be something else. I was meant to be me – whatever that turned out to be. I may wish things had worked out differently sometimes, but largely I have tried to honor who and where I am in life. That sounds like it should be easy, but it is not. It takes time and commitment to really "know thyself". In our culture, we are aggressively and relentlessly conditioned to be dissatisfied and to always want more. Not coincidentally, this conditioning makes us ideal consumers – the goal of most businesses. In the end, we spend our time and money one way or another trying to have it all.

Don't let this happen to YOU! (Click to enlarge).

Perhaps we should deliberately step aside and let the caffeinated, competitive hoards race past us. Sure, we might be left behind, but who has declared that as bad, lazy, or foolish? There are other paths to follow in the world that will lead us just as surely, to a life worth living; a life full of beauty, worthy achievement, and meaningful relationships. As Lily Tomlin once said, "the problem with the rat race is that even if you win the race, you're still a rat."

________________________________________________________

On a somewhat related note:

This video below shows a microscopic animal called a rotifer. They can be found in ponds, streams, and oceans. This one came from a drop of water on some moss and was filmed with a simple digital camera shooting through the eyepiece of the microscope. It's a little tricky to do, but it can be done. Note the cilia hairs moving at high-speed, and the small specks of food moving through the animal's gut. (Thanks to my colleague Taro for finding this critter under the scope.)

I'm guessing that most people have never heard of these animals. Without legions of such tiny, unseen, and unglamorous animals as these, whole ecosystems would be adversely affected. Hey, maybe they have earned a right to their own reality TV show! (If the video won't play, go here to view it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WmzKlWnydng)

Light at Day's End

"Audience for a Sunset" (Click to enlarge)Locking up the nature center for the day, I took a walk around the wildlife sanctuary to unwind before facing the rush hour drive. The cold wind bit my fingers and face as I tried to hold my camera steady.

The low-angle of sunlight at day's end shines a quality of light on natural features and objects that draws me inexorably into contemplation. Long shadows reach out to touching things they could not grasp during summer months, and cause familiar boundaries and features to shape-shift. In this, there is a quieting down of logic that reveals the hidden spirit of things.

Face to face with a deer friend. (Click to enlarge)Mr. Longshadow, I presume. . . (Click to enlarge)Shadow and light at day's end (Click to enlarge)

From the Archives of Memory

While sorting through thousands of my photos, have come across a few that I had almost forgotten about. I made this particular image when I was 19, when I was really enjoying shooting black and white film and the process of developing and printing in a dark room. I can still recall the smell of those chemicals, and the skill it took to do all that by hand. 

Funny how photos, especially old ones from my past, can transport me instantly through time and space, permitting a brief walk amongst the sense-memories and emotional imprint of the time when the photos were made. Some are quite strong, vivid, and seem to have a life unto themselves. . . as if I truly arrived in that captured moment from the future. Sometimes this emotional-spiritual time-travel is useful to collect something left behind. Very much like dreaming, such photos (or even objects and other memorabilia), can stir powerful memories – energies from our emotional archive. I can still recall specific days (not necessarily dates) from my childhood that capture a feeling of supreme contentment and a young, care-free spirit. The color of the sky, angle of sunlight, fragrances in the air, a song on the transistor radio, a game I was playing and what I ate for lunch. Why? Why is this sort of uneventful snapshot recorded (and recalled) with such detail and dimension?

"Die Laughing" © 1979 Michael Gambino

Well anyway, this image you see here brought up the following snapshot of memory for me:

Having served it's purpose, this Jack-o-Lantern was set out in my family's tiny cement and gravel backyard to decompose. For days it sat there, grinning at me as I came and went. It grinned as I fired my BB gun at it. It grinned as crows pecked at it, and grinned through sleet, cold, and the darkness of night. Day after day, its eerie quality grew more potent, especially as the autumn shadows grew longer.

Once, in the stillness of the late-night air, illuminated by the ambient light of street lamps and low clouds, this retired Jack-o-Lantern seemed to emanate a strange presence. Perhaps it was the late, late hour of my arrival home that Saturday night or the cheap beer of my low-budget youth, but I could swear this pumpkin-head made a sound as I passed it. I stopped and stared into the gloom where it sat, my eyes wide and heart pounding. I saw the jagged, leering mouth move. It produced a soft sound, a mischievous chuckle of the sort one might imagine is made by those unseen inhabitants of the Faerie realm. I focused all my attention on it in disbelief. I held my breath and listened hard, but it spoke no more. I dismissed the event as fatigue-induced hallucination, and quietly made my way through the back door of the dark house to my room upstairs. I lay in bed, unable to shake the experience despite my logical mind unequivocally dismissing it as fantasy.

The spooky experience lingered in my mind for a few more days, and eventually that Halloween has-been collapsed into an amorphous mound of orange mush. It had died laughing, taking its secret to the grave.

Fruitful Darkness

In the autumn of each year, the multitude of plants and animal species that animate the landscapes of the Northeast are preparing for the coming winter. The culmination of the life-purpose of many trees and plant species reaches fruition, and their berries, fruits, nuts, and seeds burst forth upon the landscape. Individual plants cast their fate to the wind, to chance, that their genes might survive beyond the winter kill, reborn as seedlings amidst the crushed and tangled bones of last year's growth. 

Birds have arrived in their wintering grounds, while hibernating mammals, and reptiles and amphibians have descended to their subterranean abodes. Late fall into early winter signals a period of suspended animation – a resting, waiting period. A command from nature to redirect energies inward. For me, winter has always been a powerful time of introspection. The veil between this world and the world of spirit thins, and I look through it for some understanding and perhaps healing. It is the time of year when I manage a few new paintings, and my writing tends to explore deeper mysteries of life. Emotionally and psychologically, I experience a sort of "catch-up". So much happens in my life every single day (especially during spring, summer, and fall) that one night's sleep is not sufficient to process the day's events, and so there is an accumulation of unfinished business. Winter can be a challenging time period emotionally. That is why dreaming is so important.

Some Native Americans believe that dreams contain special messages meant only for the one who receives the dream and it should not be recounted to others. Certain dreams have immense power. Other dreams may be shared, but always some part of the dream telling must remain secret lest our spirit become vulnerable to dark forces seeking to meddle and our newly received power foolishly dissipated.

"Irrational Landscape No. 2" - © Michael Gambino 1989Dreams come in many forms. Some of them are sweet and delicious, while some may be bitter and dreadful, tainted by food and drink, or the terrible news of the world. Most dreams we don't remember beyond a moment or two as we awake. They serve to reset our nervous system and discharge from our being various energies from the day's events. Yet some dreams manage to bridge that dark, infinite void between the dream world and our waking consciousness. They prowl restlessly about the corridors of our minds like a creature caught unexpectedly behind locked doors as we go about our daily sun-lit routines. Our task, should we choose to accept it, is to ponder the significance of such unexpected messages not with our intellect but rather with our heart.

For direction and healing, I shall look to my dreams and to the fruitful darkness of the coming winter.

A Post Card from the Thicket

There is an unexpected reverie that comes over me as I walk along the road this evening. The faint scent of smoke from a distant charcoal grill rides the cool, misty serpents of the late-November air, summoning potent memories from my youth. Uncorked, they weave their spell and transport me back to a time when my path was clear and my brow unfurrowed. It is a sweet torment with a message I must contemplate. When it comes to such mysterious things, one can not always assume the obvious. 

Overhead, the Great Orb of Night struggles to throw shadows on the ground. So pale and small tonight, and shrouded by opalescent vapors, she seems frustrated. Caught in the dark tangle of thin, bare branches, the moon mirrors my own struggle.

A turbulent sea of emotions tosses me from past to present and back again. Like a sailor adrift on the wreckage of his once proud vessel, all I can do is hold on to the only thing that floats. Hope.

At this point in my life, I am quite familiar with such trials of spirit – dark nights of the soul – and I accept them as a part of life's grand journey. They have always made me stronger and wiser. Yet I do grow weary of them at times, longing for the profound peace of soft green fields and impossibly blue skies. 

In life we start off with a certain amount of courage to get us rolling (though perhaps it is ignorance or innocence). We use what courage we have to face our fears, and as we prevail we gain more courage to press onward. But we gain it AFTER we are already victorious! So we actually have just enough courage to face each new ordeal. Such are the adventures of an ordinary life!

As I walk on, I think of my family and friends. We are all united under the same moon this evening, living separate lives, each holding our own desires, fears, joys, sorrows, triumphs, and failures. Tonight some of these people are feeling pretty good while others have more dire circumstances to contend with.

Though I must find my own path out of this current mental, emotional, and spiritual thicket, I am not alone in such a quest.