My Spirit Guide (First Encounter)

“What are you doing here?” he asked from the maple tree.

“Working,” I replied, “I’m cleaning this cart.”

I stopped when I realized I was talking to a blackbird. The red wings spread out as he spoke.

“I mean, what are you doing here?”

“Again, I’m cleaning this cart. How are you speaking to me in this voice?”

“From time-to-time we animals speak to humans. You’re familiar with the story of Balaam?” the blackbird asked.

“Hmm, wasn’t it an ass that stopped Balaam from cursing the Israelites?”

“True but back to my question, what are you doing here, right now? Shouldn’t you be working on something else?”

“Where else should I be? I’m working. You know, honest labor and all that.” I went back to wiping down the cart.

“But what about your plans that you announced and promised that you would accomplish? What happened?”

“I don’t remember making a promise to a bird. I don’t remember making a promise to anyone. Besides, I don’t know why I’m talking to you.”

“I’m your spirit guide.”

“Some spirit guide, gone half the year.”

“But Central America is so warm in December,” he lifted his head to the sun. “Listen, you stated to yourself and to others of this wondrous plan and you’ve only slightly moved forward. How can you complete your projects if you’re cleaning carts all day? You need time to work and not work all the time.”

“Kind of like ‘work smarter, not harder?’”

The blackbird sputtered, “I’ll not be mocked! I’m here to help remind you of your duties, to yourself and to your words.”

“Okay, I didn’t mean to… ruffle your feathers,” I couldn’t hide the smirk. “I’ll find time each day now that I’m sleeping better and can get organized, set deadlines and all that. I’ll get there but I have bills to pay, trees to plant, fences to build...”

“See to it! I want to see some progress.”

I nodded in agreement. I had to admit I was slacking off lately getting my words out.

“Oh, and one more thing,” the blackbird called.

Plop!

I then realized that my spirit guide was an ass after all.

 Linked at Poets and Storytellers United, Writers' Pantry #69: I Am Not Throwing Away My Shot!

GMT

Greg sat with his friend in the park, “Pat, do you know what time it is?”

“It’s 9am and I’ve been up all night with maintenance and inventory. This time change really messes you up, you know?”

“Not me, I ignore the time changes. I use GMT.”

“We don’t use Greenwich Mean Time anymore, Greg. It’s UTC now.”

“You mean ‘Coordinated Universal Time’? Pffft, they can’t even get the letters in the right order,” Greg said without revealing who they are. “I use the Greg Monitor Time. Daylight Savings Time? What’s that even mean? You can’t save time, you can only spend it. You spend time….”

Pat began to drift away in thought as Greg rambled on, something about time philosophy or something. He let Greg continue expounding on the “taxation of time,” at least that was what he thought the subject of the day was. Pat no longer cared.

“I asked what time is it?” Greg asked again after Pat was brought back to the topic at hand. “What time is it in Greg Monitor Time, GMT?”

“I don’t know. Thursday?”

 “Are you even listening, Pat?”

“I suppose you’re right. If everyone stayed in one time, it would solve problems with the changing of the clocks.”

“That’s right but I think everyone should be on GMT, the…”

“Greg Monitor Time,” Pat interrupted.

“Right. You see, this is how it works. At sun up at the equinox, the time at latitude zero…”

Pat’s thoughts drifted again. He heard this diatribe each time he met up with his friend right after a time change. It usually ended with the suggestion that Greg move to a state that didn’t change times, like Arizona. The argument turned to how part of the year you would be in Pacific Time like California and the rest of the year, one lived in Mountain Time.

“… then after every 15 degrees longitude…” Greg was on a roll.

Pat looked over at a couple walking under the maple trees, wondering if they had a friend like Greg.

“So, what time is it?”

Pat glanced at his watch and sighed, “It’s lunch time.”

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I think each of  us have a friend like Greg, full of knowledge and empty of facts as they continue in absolute confidence of their words.

But you're still friends with them anyhow.

Linked to Poets and Storytellers United:Weekly Scribblings #10: Early Bird or Night Owl?