Blame it on the reigning Easter bunny

CHERRIL DOTY

”...some days I may be cranky and some days really cranky!”

Peter Jennings

OK. That’s it!

I’m offering a reward for the capture of that dratted Easter

bunny. When he came in with the colored eggs this year, he seems to

have made off with my joy. I’ve been cranky ever since that fateful

day. Wasn’t all the color enough? The smiles on the faces of

youngsters didn’t do it for him? Or was there just so much joy to be

spread with our ever-increasing population that he needed to steal

mine? C’mon, fella, I want it back ... NOW!

I’ve tried everything I know to get back in that flow. After all,

this is the work I do, right? I’ve coached myself silly. And I’m

still cranky. I’ve sought things to blame -- friends moving away,

another friend’s death after a long illness, difficulty with

manifesting vision, allergic breakouts and even traffic and the high

cost of gas. I considered that maybe it was moral wrangling of

family, friends and acquaintances over the Schiavo case or the dying

and death of the Pope. None of those fit. So it must be me. Haven’t

done enough. Can’t get it right. Yeah, yeah, yeah ... that’s just

maudlin and weird and more of the blaming. Blaming doesn’t do it,

doesn’t serve to put that good feeling back in my heart. I’m still

cranky.

I’ve walked by the sea, in the hills, on the streets. I’ve

listened to the birds and the waves and music from classical to rap.

I’ve played with color in paints and pens. I’ve written, playing with

lyrical words and alliteration and even laughter. I’ve just sat and

watched the tides flow, listened to chimes and watched the wind sway

the trees. I’m still cranky.

I’ve played with children’s toys, blown shimmering bubbles, baked

cookies, made soup. I’ve called friends, listened to others’ troubles

and problems, imbibed champagne, danced and played. I’m still cranky.

I’ve worked in the garden, created a workshop and read a good

book. I tried simply receiving -- had a massage and a pedicure, cared

for myself. I looked at gratitude, worked all of those questions that

take me out of myself. What did I notice? What did I admire? What was

most wonderful? And, while I am ever-grateful for all of the good

things, for all of the blessings, I’m still cranky.

I went on a road trip, cherished the flowers, ate a good meal and

enjoyed a great art show. I read the Dalai Lama’s words and some of

my favorite poets, sought wisdom from the writers I admire. I drove

in my car and sang songs as loud as I could with a CD blaring as

background. I watched “Finding Nemo” and grinned. I watched

“Phenomenon” and cried. I went to see “Hotel Rwanda” and was both

angered and saddened. Emotions dealt with, I’m still cranky.

I examined and questioned and even laughed at myself. I set small

goals, achieving some, missing on others. I cleaned out a closet. I

sought guidance from others as well as listening to my own. I watched

and I listened. I hoped and I prayed. I stayed cranky.

And then I remembered something from years ago, something so

simple. I was working with adolescents at Newport Harbor High School

at the time. Many of them were high-risk and struggling. In a group

session one day, as we discussed a plethora of wide-ranging problems

and emotions, one of the girls spoke up. Her brow furrowed in deep

thought, Tiara said, “Sometimes we just need to wallow.” Her words

were followed by a deep silence as each of us seemed to reflect on

the truth of her words.

I’ve struggled and pushed and just sat. I’ve tried both doing and

being, practiced some giving and some receiving, and now even blamed

the poor Easter bunny.

Perhaps I should just follow the advice given those long years ago

by Tiara and simply wallow. There is a Ukrainian proverb that says

things hidden rap on the doors. Perhaps something cranky in me just

wants full expression. So here it is folks -- my wallow. Forget what

I said about the reward. Let the Easter bunny run free until next

year. Long before that, I am sure the crankiness will have left me.

Now that I’ve succumbed to wallowing here on this page, things could

change.

By the time I hit the “SEND” button the joy may be back, for Tiara

was right -- sometimes we just need to wallow ... and I have.

* CHERRIL DOTY is a creative life coach and artist in love with

exploring the joy-filled mysteries of life. You can reach her by

e-mail at cherril@cherrildoty.com or by calling (949) 251-3883.