I'd Rather be a Poppy

This morning I hopped on my red-and-white scooter and rode to work, dressed in my bright orange-red raincoat and a pair of wellies (rain boots) with bright red-orange poppies all over them. I love Land's End; they must know I'd rather arrive at work dressed like a flower rather than showing off my dark business suit (which, of course, I did remember to wear underneath). But when I passed by a mirror to do a quick hair-check, I realized that my face was beet red from yesterday's visit to the tanning bed. With my mop of bright red hair, I looked like a poppy.

Like a poppy, I'm a full-sun girl, happiest out in the brightest, hottest, cloudless, shadowless sunshine. As the days shorten in late summer, I often race home from work, toss my bag and jacket inside the door, and run back outside to plant myself firmly beneath the last rays of the day. I have a lightbox- one of those full-spectrum appliances that replicates the sun without the harmful rays. Sitting before this magic lightbox machine, I can reset my inner time clock and feel sunny inside and out even on short winter days and rainy days. But when I'm really missing the sun, I plunk myself inside the clamshell of a tanning bed with no apologies. Of course, I'd rather be lying around on a boat or a beach, surrounded by friends, but in the absence of a boat and a beach, I can close my eyes, imagine the ocean, feel the "sun," and get some color, too. Not too shabby.

But it is in those moments when we aren't prepared for change that we get more than we bargained for, like me, looking like a poppy with my bright red face this morning. Too much change all the sudden, too much sun after winter days and you can get burned. Change doesn't come easy, and, perhaps it should come slowly. As much as I long for the hot days of July, I suppose I should be thankful for the slow transition through April, May and June.

Take the time change for example. Wouldn't it be nice to ease into the new time by ten-minute intervals? Everyone I know is in a funk this week, brought on by "springing forward" one hour. Our inner clocks just can't change that quickly- even for one hour of our lives. The sunlight is off. Our routine is off. Our sleep is off, and we're grumpy.

To ward off this grumpiness, I went on a full moon hike last night with my local hiking meetup group. The image of the moon had changed; it hung low and full, a complete disc of cool blue light. We oohed and aahed at the beams of moonlight streaming through the awkward, bare tree branches, and had a revelation that these were, in actuality, rays of sun. How different they were, transformed by the movement of the sun, whose trajectory affects so much of my life. Even my experience with people was completely transformed, as there were no faces to recognize, the moon beams accentuating mere shapes with unique voices. After the hike I went home without having "seen" a single person, even under the light of a full moon. Something as simple as light- and absence of it- surely changes our perspective.

Wouldn't it be nice to be more prepared for- and less susceptible to- change? Change of seasons, change of sunlight, change in relationships, change of job, of health, of economy- anything? Take the poppy: a virtual celebration on a stem, and a very stout, strong stem at that. Always the brightest, most vibrant flower in the field, a poppy blooms in orange, red, yellow- the vision of happiness. They have dramatic, dark centers, and even their pollen is colorful- a deep blue. Their seeds are good for food the world over, and they produce their own morphine. Nice. Their simple, 4-6-petaled flowers close at night, and they're known as symbol of eternal love and good sleep (or death, but I prefer sleep). Best of all, poppies survive on very little water and in every kind of weather, from frosty cold to extreme heat. They adore the sun. They are good with change. They're survivors in full, vibrant beauty until their petals just float away.

Some days I'd rather be a poppy- more adaptable to change. More prepared, more tolerant of scorching heat and bitter cold. Consistenly vibrant despite the change of light and time around me. To be a vision of exuberant color, lasting love and deep rest would be pretty cool. For now, I'm learning how to prepare for change, and try to face it gradually, bit by bit. I surround myself with people and things that remind me of survival, strength, vibrance and tolerance- like my bright red waterproof raincoat and a bunch of real red poppies. But I'd like to know how you are in this climate of change. How do you prepare? How tolerant are you? Are you vibrant and strong in the challenge, or prefer change little by little? I look forward to your comments.

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