Nothing Says Peace Like a Sleeping Monkey (or Hound)

Resting Monkey Mama at Batu Caves, Malaysia.
Photo by Lucian Armasu.

Well. I was not going to write today, and I was definitely NOT going to mention PsychoHound, but SOMEONE who shall not be named interrupted me with incessant, high-pitched whinging while I was trying to make dope techno jams with kazoo, finger cymbals, and beat-looping software at 6:30 this morning. (This is all true.)  I took off my hip DJ hat, put on my old sneakers, pre-opened a little green bag, and hit the pavement for a quick walk. To shut him the heck up, actually (in the nicest possible way). And that's all I'm going to say about Fuzzbutt. 

Let's talk about monkeys.

You may have read all about the hilarious, uproarious first-shift monkeys yesterday. They had a ball chattering in my mind. (Possibly it was only me who found them all that funny, but that's for the second-shift monkeys to worry about.) In the afternoon, first-shifters took a post-walk siesta with Fuzzbutt, and the second-shift took over. Second-shift monkeys, as it turns out, are a-holes. Among other things, second shift monkeys spend a good solid hour in a repeating loop every day, worrying about whether the first-shift monkeys insulted anyone with their cursing or their opinions, and they wondered if people would realize that even though you curse because you find it funny sometimes, you're actually a pretty nice person. 

Second-shift monkeys remind you of why monkeys actually are bad. (It's not just because they steal food from little children at the foot of the Batu Caves in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.)

Steps to the temple at Batu Caves. I didn't go up. 
I could not handle the monkeys.

Some people are brilliant monkey-handlers; if you find one, never let them go. 

I sent a note to a friend the other day to tell her one of the things I think is most wonderful about her. I've written a lot of nice things about a lot of people over time, and almost always, their nutshell response is,  "Thank you but actually I'm really not all that good." Almost without fail. We are terrible at accepting compliments; we are all so flawed inside. Anyone who disagrees and thinks we're great probably doesn't know us that well. Right? Ok.

Well, this friend's response to flattery was a little different. Rather than deny the wonder, she said this:

"Like most people, I spend way too much mental energy in wondering - did I say that wrong? am I alienating people by being too me? am I on the right path? did I just waste a whole precious day?" The little gratitude I offered, she said, had helped to clear some of that "crap" from her consciousness, "at least for today." She added: "Love me as I am because that's who you are going to get."

Today, I invite you to share her message with your barking monkeys, since you cannot silence them by taking them for walks with your little green bags. Tell them to love you as you are, because that is who they are going to get, and that'll put 'em right to sleep. I promise it will give you a few hours of peace. As for Fuzzbutt, well, the walk was too short to do a damn thing, apparently, but look at the time! I really have to get back to my kazoo. 

Have a blessed, monkey-free day.

Workspace. Don't ask.



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