When The Hairy Panic Sets In

So… this is Hairy Panic Tumbleweed:


“It’s physically draining and mentally more draining,” exclaimed resident Pam Twitchett, who is one of many citizens trying frantically to clean it up. It’s presently overtaking an Australian town. As soon as they clean it up, more blows right on in!

When I saw this news item, I had to LOL. I sort of gasped actually; it wasn’t an all out laugh, but sometimes a gasp counts as an LOL and in this case I believe it does. The name itself: Hairy Panic Tumbleweed; appeals to my love of words and the writer in me made an automatic (somewhat metaphorical) connection to this scourge.

Isn’t my brain presently overtaken by something very similar? Perhaps this should be a Dali-like painting- a brain with all its glorious folds and creases… almost swallowed by a case of the hairy panics tumbling and settling into the wrinkles of the psyche.

But that is a painting for another day!

BRAG FORTHCOMING: I’m making progress around the house as far as spring cleaning, spackling, painting. I’ve been writing with a discipline that I haven’t had in years. I have lost 50 pounds. My morning glories are in the ground, and although they are not exactly thriving, I have faith they will. I even sold four paintings recently. So why the Hairy Panic? Life happens. That’s why. Outside influences stress my carefully erected barriers. The dreaded MUTE returns and I am forcing it back, or trying to…

But this is the case in any life. Chaos is in all our lives. It IS a scourge. As cliche as this sounds, my objective, should I choose to accept it (insert Mission Impossible theme music here) is to


Look at this 62 foot high “Touchdown Jesus” in Monroe Ohio:


Imagine THIS greeting you on a daily basis as you trek to the pharmacy, grocery store or park. What do people get out of this humongous statue? Huge spiritual boosts of hope and guidance? I am not so sure I would ‘feel’ that emanating from this statue, but I am sure about something quite similar along those same lines: In order to balance strife, spirituality has got to exist within me- in a height as great as this statue. And it does. At least I sure am hoping it does.

I consider myself Buddhist. I am Catholic. I’ve been to Jehovah’s Witness meetings with neighbors out of curiosity. I have studied religions. Perhaps I am an amalgam of philosophies and truths. I have taken what suits me from all faiths and like frosting on an inward cake, I find sweet solace in not any particular religion, but instead in faith. Faith doesn’t tell you not to celebrate a birthday, to ‘go to church OR ELSE,’ to tithe or to fast. Faith is not governed by rules in fact. I am reading a book just now (in fact I read the small volume in 15 minutes but am re-reading it) by Pulitzer prize winning (70 something) poet Mary Oliver. How simple are her truths. Her non-specific faith in human nature and earth nature; the thin veil that connects and also separates us from it. Her writing seems simple. Her happiness is a conversation with a rose bush. Says the rose, “Excuse me but I am, just now entirely busy being a rose.” That’s the point, right?

You have heard that when life gives you lemons, make lemonade? I have never cared for lemonade, or iced tea either for that matter, although seldom is life said to have given you too much tea… Well, when life gives you too many bastards to deal with, make faith. That’s it. Because bastards are faithless. Bastards are a scourge far more intrusive than the Hairy Panic Tumbleweed. Faith is a salve against them. By bastards I mean insensitive, vindictive, narcissistic cruel, and quite undeveloped souls who curtsy into lives with charm and write all over you with markers. I do not believe they write on you with permanent markers. The alternative (anti-faith) is a rubber room. Onward. Mike drop.


FYI: The word bastard was used 5 times in this post.

More on Hairy Panic:


Touchdown Jesus gets makeover:



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