A Straggler

Yesterday afternoon I spent a very frustrating forty or so minutes trying to help a late-arriving cicada nymph (I know, I already said in *this previous post that it would be the last cicada post of the year, but this one stood out).  I hadn't heard any cicadas for some time already, and certainly wasn't expecting to encounter a nymph preparing to molt at this late date, but there it was, crawling across the sidewalk.  As with the previous nymphs I'd come across while out walking, it was going away from the tree it had presumably crawled out of;  I thought I'd do a kind deed and picked it up and put it up on the tree.

Problem was, the nymph was apparently not in the best of health;  it was having problems grabbing the tree bark and kept tumbling off.

I started to keep my hand below it to catch it;  while very small animals are not greatly bothered by falling from heights, still falling off a tree a bunch of times surely doesn't help!  I confess I added insult to (possible)injury by dropping it a few times when I picked it up (I didn't grip it tightly for fear of injuring it, and its shell was quite smooth and slippery).

I tried placing the nymph in a crotch of the tree, thinking it would stop the falls in place of my hand.

But the nymph still kept tumbling.  Then I got the bright idea to place it at the base of the tree just above the roots -- it would have more climbing to do, but at least it wouldn't have far to fall if it fell again...

which it promptly did. 

And when I put it back on, the nymph started climbing down instead of up!

Finally I decided I'd done enough, that if the nymph didn't make it, it wasn't for lack of (my)trying.  I placed it at the base of the tree for the last time and walked away.

A Frustrating Dream

This morning I dreamt that I was at some event at work (or in class) where the qualifying condition included writing one's name on a slip of paper.  A memo pad and a number of writing tools were provided, and the other people (there were many, and they were all my friends) easily finished this task and began to leave.  Try as I might though, I just could not accomplish this simple feat.  Either the pens and markers provided were out of ink, or I kept screwing up the "S", the very first letter of my name.  Soon I was the only one who hadn't finished, and even though the others were all kind and encouraging, I was frustrated beyond tolerance -- and that was the state I woke up in.  Not quite a nightmare, but part of the way there.

It was disturbing, to say the least.  Clearly the writing the name bit had to do with my sense of identity and self-worth.  That I kept failing to write my own name is worrisome.  One possibility is that unconsciously I feel I am not living up to my own expectations of myself.  And not really so "unconsciously", either;  I am the first to admit that lately I have become lazy and... less than what I feel I could be, should be, even in my own eyes.  It's been causing a certain level of anxiety that I am well aware of.  That the other people present were all friendly and nice to me to the end, however, seems to indicate that there is nothing in my environment that's keeping me from realizing my potential, that in fact outside conditions are optimal.

Clearly something needs to change, something I need to make happen to stimulate myself back to my former level of alertness and activity.  I will have to work on this.