Monkey in a Tree


I have walked at Don Fox Park for almost five years. I walk so fast, helloing, smiling, swiftly moving along. After, I jump in the truck and head to work. For awhile,I read the same signs that suggested taking some time to look around at nature, sharing what you find with others. I did. I looked at the larger,white faced squirrels and told my husband about them. I looked at the level of the stream, noting that with continual rain almost every day it still had not flooded, the earth putting it away somewhere. I took pictures of the flowers someone planted. I brought some of our grandkids there to play and we enjoyed lunch. But, I had never really slowed down.

So, when I took this picture, I saw he had. He,the monkey, had stopped swinging through his daily life. I was seeing a sideview of a monkey sitting down at his table with his paws folded,waiting. Sitting. Waiting. Relaxing. I almost expected to see a real monkey poke out of the hole with a plate of food for him.

Maybe I can go there. Sit on a swing, relax, read a book. Slow down, watch people rush by. I am not sure you a monkey. You might see a different revelation. You might see yourself walking in to that hole, the unknown. A different path. A new life. You might see a new birth. Someone stepping out of the past and in to the future.

I see my monkey, my mistakes, accomplishments,my worry and hurry. I want to look in to the hole, step in and travel back in the past. Then step out,relax a bit at that table and write about what I saw. Then get up, find a few new paths to follow. Come back, sit and write some more!

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