Nature and Writing Have Much in Common

Picture it! Today while basking in the sun, I sat up to glance at my new red schoolhouse bird feeder, anticipating birds would be eating away, since they were chirping and singing a melodious tune. When I glared at the bird feeder, I noticed it going in circles. Curious, I strained my eyes, somewhat dazed from the bright sunshine. No birds were near it! Shakespeare, my mini schnauzer was sitting by the bird feeder, observing his prey. The bird feeder continued to spin in a circular motion. I noticed a fuzzy tail - a squirrel.

Scratching my head, I was curious as to how the squirrel could get on the bird feeder, since it is suspended from a tree branch. The more I watched, the more I realized this squirrel and I have much in common. While the bird feeder continues to spin the squirrel around and around, he clings to the cables holding the feeder - refusing to give up, perhaps like I cling to the reality of breaking into bigger markets as a writer and photojournalist. Like the squirrel, I spin, sometimes hopelessly spinning, and other times, I am euphoric with excitement with my accomplishments and dreams. Scratching my head, I am mesmerized by this silly, determined squirrel. Drunk from the spinning bird feeder, he falls off, wiggles his fuzzy tail, while Shakespeare darts after him, but the squirrel is faster. He sprints towards the oak tree, his fuzzy tail tapping along the tree limbs. Quickly he darts towards the swing, stretches to get across it, and jumps back on the bird feeder. Spinning around and around in a non-stop circle, he must be getting sick from the spinning, but dear Mr. Squirrel continues swinging.

After a few minutes he falls to the ground, thrust himself back to the tree in record time before Shakespeare manages to catch him. As a writer, I cannot count the many times I have been left spinning in hopes I will accomplish my goals, and while watching the determination of the squirrel, I understand his pursuit.

How many times have I heard others tell me, "You're too stupid to write. You'll never accomplish those stupid, silly dreams. What makes you think you can write?" Chilling words to a child.

Like the squirrel, I still have that persona about me - the mental picture of myself as a writer. As a child, I turned away from other children when they laughed at my stories. Funny. I was the only one in the class whose story was read aloud by the teacher. I was the only child in third grade who rushed into the classroom, full of excitement with a published magazine story.

In high school, I had a great mentor by the name of Mrs. Marler. She was my tenth grade English teacher. When I enrolled in this high school (the fourth high school I had enrolled in that year, due to my parents divorce) Mrs. Marler called me aside, to speak privately with me. She mentioned that she was shocked to see I had failed ninth grade English, and she wanted to know why. She said my schoolwork in class was great. I was articulate, and I was a great writer. "You write so eloquently," she said. "You can be a great writer." Although I had a history of being the teacher's pet in school, her words echoed in my head over and over.

That afternoon, I rushed home to my mother, excited to tell her what Mrs. Marler said to me. "Can you picture it, Mama? Me - your little stupid girl - a writer? Mrs. Marler believes in me. She says I can be a writer."

My mother spat back, her poisonous words still burning inside my heart, "Last week you wanted to be a singer. This week - a writer. When will you realize, you ain't gonna amount to nothing but a stupid hill of beans, you stupid girl."

My mother always knew how to get to me. Fortunately, Mrs. Marler knew how to turn things around for me. Now, today, I sit, laughing at Mr. Squirrel. Stiff with his posture, determined with his actions, he is determined to get to the birdseed in the bird feeder and nothing will stop him. He rushes from the tree, down to the concrete bench, sprints across to the swing, then he thrusts his little brown body high into the air, catches the cable and swings around and around, in hopes to eat a meal of bird seed.

Some people could describe him as a stupid squirrel, but I see something others do not see. I see Mr. Squirrel as a determined little person, even when the chips are down and life is kicking him in the rear. He stops at nothing to reach his goal, just like I do, as a writer. Words are my life, my passion and words give me breath. While it is true, I could allow life to beat me down, simply because my mother's cruelty could destroy me, but as a young girl, I refused to allow others to hurt me more than life did as a child. I found a passion, and today I fight to keep that passion alive - through my words.

When poisonous doubt echoes in my ears, I push those negative vibrations away by remembering what my father said during a television show. "My daughter...Now, she's the writer!"

Mr. Squirrel, today you taught me a valuable lesson I will share with others when I speak about accomplishments, goals, and strategies of success as a writer. When life gives lemons, make lemonade. When the pendulum of life is heavy and not swinging your way, make a new strategy. Believe in yourself, your talents, and abilities. As writers, we must swing into a new course and believe we can achieve great things.

When the road is leading us astray, we must take a detour, continue our course, and never give up. Tomorrow is a new day. Fresh and bright with opportunities. Never give up. Believe in yourself, like Mrs. Marler believed in me and like Mr. Squirrel believes he can hang on to the cable and eat the bird seed. How I wish I could thank Mrs. Marler. She believed in me, helping me to believe in myself. Nature and writing are truly my connections to life!