Man and Beast

Turning must be an interesting activity because it attracts a large amount of interest from both man and beast. First, there are the neighbors. I have several neighbors, all but one of whom have asked me what in the world I'm doing while I'm turning. All of those think it's pretty cool. One set, though, does not ask. Instead, when I'm turning, if they are aware of it, they come out to stare and point. Sometimes they stare and point longer than on other days (the time they spend is inversely proportional to the distance the temperature is away from 75 degrees Fahrenheit), but nearly every time they become cognizant of my turning, they come out to watch, like it's somehow a spectacle or in any grossly observable way different from on other days.

Second, there are the aforementioned neighbors' dogs, whom typically become aware of my turning about a quarter of the way through (after ten or fifteen minutes, usually) and begin barking at me from about one hundred yards away as if I'm trying to tear down their gate and plunder their poop farm of a yard. The dogs obviously (by watching their behavior much of the time) want more attention from said neighbors, and eventually, the rampant barking attracts them so that they can watch. It's quite the cycle. The dogs, it seems, have trained the people, but I understand that happens quite frequently in pet-owner relationships. The neighbors, nonetheless, are stupid. When their dogs bark at five, six, or seven in the morning, if asked about that behavior, they say that they couldn't hear it, though they were certainly awake (at least at seven) and that they must have been barking at "some kids out playing." How many kids are out playing at five a.m.? None. I'm not even turning then. In fact, I've never turned at five a.m. (though I have at six a few times, which did not get their dog going).

Third, there are insects. The South is a wonderful place for those, and various flies, mosquitoes, and several "other" category insects seem to have a wonderful time with a turner during the summer months. Sometimes, the sweating is so intense that an insect will land on my arm and , getting stuck, drown before it can take off again. None of it really bothers me except trying to keep the posture through being bitten by a mosquito, stung by a sweat bee, or have a humming mosquito try to make a camp in my ear.

Least offensive are the birds, which merely serve to distract me, particularly since they seem to be spending a lot more time a lot closer to my circle than they used to while I'm turning. They'll sit on the fence or even sometimes on the ground just a few feet from me and sing. It's hard not to choose to watch them because they're quite interesting and rarely so close. Today, for instance, a small gray bird came near, and I noticed that when it sang, it's entire body warbled with its note. I keep find myself wondering if one of these days a bird will choose to land on my outstretched arm or on the one above my head, and then I wonder if I could remain placid enough to prevent scaring it off if it did. It would be strange. Sometimes the birds distract me in other ways. Particularly, at least once a week I see some kind of National Geographic action involving one of a handful of species of native hawks or falcons. Occasionally, the bird of prey is carrying a small rodent or bird off into the distance, but more often it is being pestered and chased off by other birds, usually very small ones, although crows sometimes join in the sport. It's hard not to watch.

The kids, I guess, deserve a spot here as well now that they're back from their three-week adventure with the relatives. My training has taken a serious nosedive since their return, and it's not because I've been spending more time with them so much as it is because they're very noisy and almost needy. Constantly, it seems, they want or need something done, have done something poorly enough that it needs semi-immediate attention or remedy, or are carrying on, usually arguing with each other, especially at times when they think they can get away with it (like when I'm turning). That's quite distracting as well.

I think I remember talking about "the Tao" a few weeks ago and about how in the "modern" world such distractions are part of the training and should be embraced. I'm not feeling that way nearly as strongly right now after having had so much time without the kids, but I'm hoping I will again soon.