Mental Adjustment / A Squirrel's Life

I woke up this morning with a sore back and a sore shoulder, most likely from a vigorous PT session and a very busy night in the kitchen, coupled with an awkward little slip on a spilled drink as I checked out of work. I iced before bed, and planned a quick trip to the chiro this morning.

As I approached my car, I stopped to watch three squirrels, who were hard at play, chasing each other round-and-round- and up-and-down a tree. The air was cool and crisp. The sky a bright blue, and there was that wonderful smell of fallen leaves. I looked around and thought about nature in our part of the world at this time of year. Slowing down it's metabolism, conserving it's resources. Pulling the comforter around itself for warmth against the approaching winter.

I started my drive, my mind lost in the coming day's work, bills, emotions, and uncertainties. I walked right in to an empty treatment table at the chiro office, and prepared for the coming adjustment. The Dr. asked how I was doing, and we discussed my current issues. He popped my wrist a bit, laid me down on my back and popped and cajoled my shoulder, rolled me over to my stomach and cracked my back and neck, a few quick trigger point clicks on my back. Two minutes or less and I'm feeling better.

As I left, I started thinking that we often need a chiropractic adjustment of the mind. Instead of months or years of therapy, we have to find a way, without drugs, for a quick crack of our minds. A few trigger point mental clicks. A quick twist and release of our subluxated emotions.

Which brings me back to the squirrels. Think about a squirrel. Fast, graceful, playful, mischievous, and seemingly intelligent (except for the insane game of chicken they play with cars). They entertain us with their antics - and seem downright evil if you have a fondness for bird feeders in your yard. Apparently, I had a few in my yard with a fondness for cherry tomatoes. Two summers ago, I had a beautiful, healthy, vibrant container plant on my deck. And the squirrels beat me to every ripe tomato. It was like a game we played. A few would be ripening and I'd think about picking them. I'd give them a close look, and decide to pick them after one more day in the sun. The next morning - only those ripe ones would be gone. And there would be signs of disturb soil in another potted plant - and I'd find a buried, half-eaten tomato.

As I pulled back into my parking spot in front of the tree and turned the engine off. I rolled down the window and sat there a few minutes, taking in the fresh cool air, and staring at the tree. undoubtedly, the squirrels were back into their hectic fall labor of finding and hiding food for the winter. Scampering around with tree nuts, or pine cones. Stopping and looking around with those big, suspicious dark eyes, ears rotating like radar, listening for another thieving squirrel. They are very much like us. Right down to the idiotic games of "chicken" we play with aspects of our lives.

But I think the squirrels have that quick mental chiropractic adjustment thing down pat. Even in the middle of their hectic fall labor. They stop and play many times during the day. They put aside their labors, play with their friends for a little while. Maybe stop at the bird fountain for a drink with a long unseen friend to catch up on family.

I'm sure that some squirrelologist will tell you that it's just instinctive programming, part of their DNA. They are driven to chase and play to develop muscle tone and defensive, elusive skills to avoid being caught up by a predator. And I'm sure that is true to a point. But sit quietly and watch them at play and work. If you look closely - when they play - you can see a little smile.