This morning I was struck with a brief moment of panic when I realized I was in a suburb and not in the wilderness. And that I would probably stay stuck in the suburbs for the foreseeable future. Or am I just being pessimistic? Realistic? Let me be optimistic. Let me plan to go somewhere remote and open and free sooner rather than later. Hell, I don't even have to plan all that much -- can I trick myself into being spontaneous for once? I assume so. Especially if it has to do with my physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being. I won't attempt to say it better than Gary Snyder: "Nature is not a place to visit. It is home." Not to be morbid, but I want that quote on my tombstone. Except I don't want a tombstone. I want to be cremated and have my ashes scattered over some canyon and then eaten by hawks and then the hawks will gain super powers because, well, it's me they just ingested and I'm super human and then they will rapidly take over the world and you will all become slaves to the mighty Meghan hawk.
Okay, so I was vegan again for a second. It was more like two weeks or so. Maybe more, maybe less. I have been doing a lot of thinking and reading and researching and thinking some more and reading a lot more and spying on hawks in the park and I have come to a decision -- for now. For now I am going to eat animal products. Do I need to go into the whys? Why not. But I won't go into it in depth because I have to do the laundry and wash my hair and both of those activities, frankly, take a lot of my energy. Anyway, I will be all Michael Pollan on your asses and eat food, mostly plants. I will be all Mark Bittman on your asses and be vegan before 6pm. I will, finally and most importantly, be all Meghan on your asses and listen to my body, eat intuitively, make compassionate choices, take each situation as it comes. The world isn't black and white. We live in the gray, naturally, and I desire to be and live as naturally as possible. Do not fear, I will not go all Gwyneth Paltrow on your assess. Middle Path, folks. There really is something to that whole moderation thing. (Oh yeah, and I guess I was supposed to give you reasons for my decisions, not what I was going to do. I will very quickly say it is for health and environmental reasons. For reals.)
Leaf blowers can go straight to hell. Except no, not hell. Heaven. I am fairly certain I and all of the people I like and admire will be hell dwellers, so let us at least live down there without the obscene noise of the godawful leaf blower. Have fun not raking up leaves, Jesus. (SORRY FOR THIS PARAGRAPH, MOM. LOVE YOU!)
Well. Laundry time, weirdos. And I might put off washing my hair for yet another day. Who am I trying to impress anyway? The hawk in the park? Oh crap. I am trying to impress the hawk in the park. Sigh. Guess I better shampoo that hair and shave those legs. I've got a hawk to woo, dammit.
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