Topic 105: Mental Vagrancy

Carol:

A Walk on the Wild Side

Watusi cattle

A vagrant is someone without a permanent home, a wanderer, so a mental vagrant must be someone who wanders from idea to idea or interest to interest without self-discipline.  But, living too much in the mind can also be detrimental. Sometimes a little play is called for, a reminder that being “in the moment” is a valuable restorative.  Valentine’s Day  provided one of those “in the moment” opportunities for us.  Instead of celebrating Heart Day with a romantic dinner or flowers and candy, we abandoned  routine and took off in the car, a much delayed visit to the Out of Africa Wildlife Park north of us in Camp Verde.
 

I have loved animals all my life and have never lost the excitement of seeing wildlife up close, whether the deer and coyotes that frequent our neighborhood,  the baby primates in the nursery at the Phoenix Zoo, the walk-in aviary at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum in Tucson, or the Mexican Gray Wolves at Prescott’s Heritage Park Zoological Sanctuary. 
Turning west from I-17, the only freeway that runs north-south in the state, we had a vista to our right of the cliffs that foreshadow the red rock country  of Sedona, and the scrubby rolling terrain of the Verde Valley itself might resemble the African plains.  However, the road leading to the park is also the main entrance to the Verde Valley Superior Court complex that includes the Detention Center. I couldn’t help but wonder if the prisoners can see the animals out of their windows or if they talk about the animal park when their kids come to visit.
 

The park itself is only 104 acres, small-scale compared to the 1800- acre San Diego Wild Animal Park. On a Monday in February, we could park our car 20 yards from the entrance, buy our tickets, and board the Safari tour bus all within 10 minutes.   Safari host Bill Pearson handed each of us a carrot as we settled into our seats, giving us a quick preview of the zebras, herd animals and giraffes and warning that small, glittery cameras are particularly attractive to ostriches.  Our fellow passengers in the open-windowed bus consisted mostly of white-haired retirees and young parents with pre-school children. When the giraffe put out its giant tongue for a piece of carrot, the squeals of excitement came from both toddlers and grandparents.

 After the bus took us around “Serengeti” and “Masai Mara” exhibits, it was a short ride by tram to the upper area of the park that loops through the lions, tigers, bears (oh, my) to the Tiger Splash Arena.  Whether on the bus, tram or at the arena, park staff continually reinforce that Out of Africa animals are not trained even though some are tame (like Humphrey the giraffe). So, the Tiger splash Show is not orchestrated, the tigers do not perform, and the activity is directed less by the staff than  the mood and natural instincts of the Cat. Yesterday, Ezekial was in the mood to demolish numerous plastic blow-up toys although it took a while to lure him into the splash pool.
 

What struck me most that the animals were well tended, the staff loved their jobs, and more emphasis was placed on education than entertainment. One of the most interesting things I saw was the “squirrel ladders” on the water tanks. Imagine miniature swimming pool ladders out of re-bar, their only purpose to give tiny water-seeking animals a way to climb out of the metal tanks, tangible evidence that park owners Dean and Prayeri Harrison and their staff practice the philosophy  displayed on their website: “The animals are treated with the Golden Rule - to do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Love and respect for all life is the Park's objective.”
 

So, dear readers, if from time to time a cartoon replaces our daily theme, know that we are not being mental vagrants but rather enjoying an opportunity to…Carpe Diem.
Source: Out of Africa Wildlife Park website:
                  http://www.outofafricapark.com/index.html

Megan:

Mental Vagrancy

I suppose once I finally find a job, I’ll look back on this time with nostalgia. Don’t think I don’t know how lucky I am.

And actually, I’ve been staring that those two sentences for 20 minutes now and I’d start writing  something about how I’m feeling directionless and frustrated, and then erase it because it doesn’t feel true. I definitely have moments, but this isn’t one of them so I don’t want to put myself in a mood. Especially since I felt so poorly last night, I am elated today by comparison.

So, let us consider the topic—it doesn’t mean mental homelessness. Vagrancy (according to Merriam-Webster, means the state of being a vagrant, which means:)

1 a : one who has no established residence and wanders idly from place to place without lawful or visible means of support  
 b : one (as a prostitute or drunkard) whose conduct constitutes statutory vagrancy
2: wanderer, rover

The topic is not far off our essay on daydreaming, except that one can guide a daydream whereas mental vagrancy is free!  I imagine mental vagrancy to be more like meditation (says a person who has failed at every attempt she has ever made to meditate) where thoughts are allowed to wander in and out without consequence or encouragement.  A nifty way to explore the idle wanderings of the mind is with a free writing exercise. This has popped up in every writing workshop I’ve ever taken, and to be honest is pretty much how I write most of these essays.

I’m not going to do it now though, because while I was trying to decide what to write for those 20 minutes after the first two sentences, when I wasn’t thinking how not unhappy and frustrated I am,  I was thinking about the migraine I had when we left the animal park yesterday (lifelong ambition achieved! Visiting the park, I mean. Not the migraine). And then how the Mexican food and the Strongest Margarita In The World added to my discomfort, which culminated in me kneeling over the toilet for half the evening. Milo was so concerned (or curious about the noises and smells), he came in to investigate and then lay right outside the door. That might have been sweet of him except I tripped over him when I came out. He deserved it though because earlier in the evening, before the headache got that bad, he was lying on the couch next to me and sneezed. The force of the sneeze caused his head to recoil and smash into mine and for a couple of minutes I thought he might have cracked my skull. In fact, perhaps it was that – a concussion – that caused me to be so ill and not the Margarita. That cheers me up because I really like margaritas.

And oops, I wound up writing about it anyway. My point is, it’s good to let the mind wander… sometimes it gives you a chance to piece together a puzzle and then you’ll realize it was actually the dog’s fault.