26 Sep Squirrel Grab
Winter is coming, and Squiffy is hungry for nuts. The cold wind, and clear nights amplify my awareness of the season turning. She has mastered the ‘how to carry two hazelnuts’ problem. The trick is to shell one to eat now, then there’s room to carry one to bury for later. Her urgency for food is a survival need at this time of year.
While I watch her endeavours to prepare for winter, I notice my own urge to hunker down, to fill my shelf of resources in order to last out what seems like the inevitable coming of another period of lockdown.
My own greed is more of a grasping for something elusive, to fill the hole left by my unmet childhood needs. The chase for the thing that will fill my own void can be enthusiastic, but usually falls on the right side of compulsive. I recognise the potential for addiction, but manage to avoid it.
However, I am regularly tempted by the clever marketing that wants to sell me the supplement, the course, the teacher, the workshop, the book, that will forever heal my sense of lack. My inbox is filled daily with the commodification of experiences that should be freely available in a healthy community, as part of daily life – contemplation, movement, nature, celebration, connection and healing.
My fear of scarcity makes me clutch for what I don’t have, instead of enjoying the bounty that is available. Emails present me with shiny options designed to give me FOMO (fear of missing out). I steel myself to ‘unsubscribe’, to sit tight, watch squirrels, and maybe nibble on an Ombar.
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