The Ides of March


Rita yells from downstairs, “Hey, there’s a fox running across the field.”

I get to the window and see a quick red fox loping across the alfalfa field in front of our house.

I point out, “It’s loping, not running.”

Rita counters: “It might be trotting.”

We dance a bit.

But part of me is thinking that having never been a bushy-tailed red fox makes discerning fox-loping from fox-trotting difficult.

While contemplating life as a red fox, I dump compost water onto my left shoe. This left shoe is the very same left shoe where dribbles of unleaded gasoline landed last week.

Might this be a warning? Doesn’t everything happen for a reason?

Apparently, my left shoe is attracting bad smells. Why? What karma does that particular shoe have coming to it?

On the Ides of March, my father had a stroke. I was there. I cannot express the piercing terribleness.

In what feels like a lifetime ago, I thought that when I sprained my ankle or when the wind blew against me while bicycling, that it was a message from the universe or God or some mystical entity. But I never discerned the message. I keep listening, but sometimes I forget.

Nothing happens for a reason.

The compost water found its way; there is no ordained destiny for my left foot.

The stroke struck; there was horror, but no inherent gracious or malevolent message.

The fox ran, loped, or trotted, without spiritual awareness or discernment. Being a humanoid meaning-maker, I am glad of that. Making meaning from nothing grows tiresome.

Can you help me, Mr. Bushy-Tailed Red Fox, understand the meaning of all things?

Or help me understand the meaning of no things.

Or help me understand both at once.

via Daily Prompt: Warning

2 thoughts on “The Ides of March

  1. Nice images. And of course, on the other side of the dialectic…it all has meaning. Just not meaning we can be sure of. Just not meaning we are happy about…Just because we can’t find it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Even taxes have meaning.

    Liked by 1 person

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