isn’t it good to laugh

Back from a day of outdoor lazybones ambling around in the Southeast, I’m lounging in the recliner with a late coffee (finished) and a paperback (ongoing) and something has me glance from the book to my left leg and there I see a tick crawling on my tan cargo shorts. I move the peanuts and throw down the book and grab the tick between my right thumb and forefinger, jump up towards the bathroom, and the first thought – my honest to goodness very first thought – is with the Buddhist Ten Grave Precepts, specifically #1 – ‘I vow not to kill.’

So I make my best apology – because I take the Precepts seriously – and bring my hand over the toilet and open up and – nothing. No tick. No Precept violated. I go back through the studio, take the recliner apart, hands and knees over every inch of the rug, behind books, behind Morning Pages, my clothes shaken and then shaken inside out, nothing. I take the trimmer and shave my head. I step into a crazy hot shower for a long time. I step out and dry and look all over again. Nothing.

I’d spent Thursday hours in the Rhododendron Garden, then hiking on the tar path out and back along the Johnson Creek, and lastly through the wilds of Errol Heights – old SE stomping grounds – and while I never strayed from any tar or dirt or wood chip path, all those spots are filled with the kind of greenery that maybe hopes to reach out and touch someone’s hand. Or leg.

I went to bed Thursday night knowing I had a guest. My one true hero in life, Kathleen Hanna, suffered horribly for six years before being properly diagnosed with Lyme Disease. I’d prefer not to share that particular experience with her. I guess it’s a que sara sara thing. And like they say, “The Great Way is not difficult when there’s no pick and choose.” Not sure about tick and choose.