Something New

New year, old me. I'd like to try something new this year. My writing has come to a sort of impasse. Perhaps in the spirit of self-acceptance I could learn to be comfortable with this and write within my own limits until I surpass myself. In order to improve, one must first enjoy acting as is. This is easier said than done, of course. Everybody wants to improve. The usual New Year's resolutions include all sorts of lofty expectations for oneself. While reaching for that ideal image, we miss the joy of being who we are at the moment. If we die tomorrow, we will never have reached the goal we were working toward, but if we enjoyed the work we did toward that goal, it won't matter. So, my goal is to enjoy the work. If the work I am doing isn't fun, then the goal won't be, either. I'm also letting go of my idea of usefulness. That will come simply in the doing. Here's to a fun year!

My Point of Reference's Point of Reference

I was thinking of the times I've been given bad advice. When I'm speaking to someone close to me and they come out with a negative comment, I always wonder where they got it. It probably didn't originate in their brain just then. Somebody must have said or done something negative to them at one point that stuck in their head, germinated like an evil seed and waited for me to come along. People tend to feel comfortable enough with me to unleash all their zingers. I may have come with a "doormat" stamp on my head, one that can only be read by mean people. Eventually, I want someone to be angry at, and since it's hard to be angry at the immediate offender, I tend to like to blame whoever made him/her that way. Inevitably, the realization leads to the fact that someone made the maker that way, too. We've gotta get revenge on the first insulting person ever. What made that one insulting, though? There's somebody who was just born bad. A mean, negative, offensive asshole who started it all. Now that son of a bitch shouldn't have been given free will. And who created him? So, since I like to believe in goodness, the discussion ends here. One more unanswered question. Nobody to be angry at, since I can't get to the source.

I'm Set to the Wrong Speed

With the evening wasting away at the grocery store, I began to wonder why the unimportant things take so long and take so much time away from the important things I want to get done. Yes, I want to buy the food my family needs. No, I don't want it to take up precious hours of my life each week. Budgeting makes it take a bit longer. Since I'm budgeting in order to have more time with my kids, I suppose it's useful time spent. It still feels like sand through the hourglass of my life. My Grandmom used to watch Days of Our Lives and that hourglass would always haunt me. I now watch the beginning on occasion, and feel like my Grandmother is speaking to me. She is the one who recommended I be an actress when I was bored with my job in science. If only she had been a rich benefactor like Great Expectations, my life may have turned out much more interesting. There'd still be the wasted time in between, though. Nobody escapes waste. Except, maybe people born a bit more efficient than me. I don't have a knack for time management, and I think I'm actually set at the wrong speed. Others do something and it takes them half as long as me. My impatient children will say "Mommy's being slow again or Mommy's being clumsy again." It takes forever if you keep dropping things, as I always do. I'd say motherhood just has me flustered and pulled in many directions, but I was like this before. People get impatient with me regularly. So, I would like the official diagnosis and a card I can carry, explaining my lifelong condition of having been set at the wrong speed. People will just have to pass on the left, and give me extra time. I wonder if a longer life span comes with such a handicap? Then it would all make sense.

I Wouldn't Conform...If Not for Taxes

As I sit blaming myself for having conformed a bit more than I had planned, I realize that it was in some ways for survival. That's how every society gets people to conform, really. The true nonconformists live on the streets in the city playing their guitars for food, or are unemployed artists doing almost the same. For a short time, when we are little, we are our true selves. As we grow we are molded, painstakingly into adequate members of society. Our parents do it unconsciously, most of the time. Some are quite mean and do things for the sole purpose of turning their children into broken, self-hating souls, but I'm referring to the average, well meaning parent here. Some of them think it's good for the child, and survival is definitely necessary, but it won't lead to fulfillment and enlightenment, which I'm still hoping are human possibilities. Since I moved into upper-middle class suburbia, I've heard a couple of mothers bluntly say that their children are only allowed art and music as hobbies because they will never pay the bills. One wouldn't even let her daughter minor in dance at college. She is very proud the girl "chose" teaching as her major. Maybe that poor girl will get to inspire her students to do what they want with their lives. When I was in school, there were battles between students and the school board over how many electives we would take. We always wanted more. Young people have a natural affinity for variety in their learning. Perhaps the only reason adults don't is because they were pigeonholed as kids. After graduating college, I learned that every educational show I love has an anthropologist narrating it. Anthropology wasn't offered as an elective at my high school. I never knew what it was while applying for college. There is, however, a famous anthropologist who hailed from the very town of my high school. The town is quite proud of her, apparently. Bitterness will get me nowhere, of course. Had I built a career that I loved, I might have waited longer to get married and missed out on my three beautiful daughters. I now can work on a career for myself while educating them on everything I missed. Perhaps teaching them that they can make money through a more unique, interesting career will be the best revenge I can get. But what of the people who don't even realize what happened to them? They consider being bored and detached from their true selves a part of "growing up" or being "responsible". Who has been served by this? Society's purpose is still a mystery to me.

I Am Unexceptional

When viewing various internet posts from other people, I realized , like a slap in the face that I am unexceptional. Sure, we are all unique and special, but I have definitely not become exceptional. My thoughts, desires, and lifestyle are quite similar to everyone else's. At first, this made me uneasy. Shouldn't we all be different? But then, it made me happy. Even people who, in my opinion, are exceptional live a life quite similar to mine. Suddenly, it's not as huge a leap to be exceptional. I am human, so are they. We have the same capacity for becoming exceptional. It's just a matter of focus. Sure, many exceptional people will never be noticed, or get a paycheck or any sort of reward for their work. At least they can feel they've done their best and improved over time. I bet most people don't ever quite feel exceptional, though. That's why we all keep trying. The journey never ends if the destination is just out of our reach. Or, perhaps in all our attempts to become something exceptional, we end up returning to the person we already were and find that it's exceptional just to be a unique human being. Is it too obvious for our human brains to want to consider? A complicated life of struggle is much more alluring.

Loneliness

I'm looking into a religious book on loneliness. It says loneliness can lead to creativity, connections to other humans and ultimately God. In Graceland, my husband and I stayed at The Heartbreak Hotel. "I get so lonely, I could die." Such a heartbreaking line. Can a heart break from loneliness? There are certain medical conditions where people seemed to die of loneliness. Spouses die soon after each other. A friend's cat once jumped in front of a car soon after its mate had been hit. Is death our final solution to the loneliness deep in our souls that can only be interpreted as a longing for God's love? Of course, we cling to other human souls, as flawed and seemingly incapable of divine love as ourselves. Those we admire usually show more of a divine capacity than we see in ourselves. Saints seem to have learned how to tap into God's love and share it with us. We all are capable. It's who we're supposed to be. Even tapping into it wouldn't be completely without loneliness, though. Loneliness seems to be both the way to access it and the obstacle to it. We pray in a quiet place of solitude. Even while praying in groups, people tend to go into a state of lonely meditation. All saints and those of great spiritual achievement seem to have been somewhat tragic and alone in the world. Maybe with real love, the more you give away the more you get, but only to be given away. You are a vehicle, nothing is actually for you. But, being closely connected to God, you wouldn't have it any other way. It's a peaceful loneliness. The kind that kills must be a selfish loneliness. It's the effort of clinging to divine love that corrupts it and kills you. Learning to let it flow through you freely is what gives you a healthy, useful life. If you get really disciplined, you probably feel love more fully the more you give. No need to have it returned.

Up for Debate

To me, every aspect of life is debatable. It's a great learning experience, a debate. I look at everything from both sides before I figure out which side of the fence I'm on. Of course, sometimes it's preferable to stay on my side of the fence. Simply smile and wave at my opponent on his side. Let's agree to disagree is what I find myself inclined to say to much of the world these days. Nobody wants to have a nice open-minded debate. How do I learn anything from them? I get shut out. End of conversation. Too bad we'll never come to a conclusion. No meeting in the middle. Not one step toward each other. If you want it that way, I'll build my fence good and strong. You would have poisoned me with your closed-mindedness, anyway. No loss, I guess. Uh huh, YOU LOSE! I can take what I want from you. I've learned plenty about your single faceted world. You'll never know mine. Your only value, in your stubbornness is you. You in your tiny little world. Never opening up. When someone really special comes along with a world changing idea I'll be ready to debate it and weigh its validity. You'll shut it out and be left out. Stay on your side of the fence. That's how you want it.

Will I be like that, when I'm finished searching? Are you my goal? Am I always conversing just so I won't be like you? Living in a tiny group of people that agree with me. Is that what you're supposed to want? Is that peaceful and happy closed-mindedness? Why do I even consider you as a valid being? You would shun me for not being part of your group, yet I don't hate you. Maybe you found the answer for you. Perhaps you have won a happy life behind your fence. I wait to put up a fence until I know what I'm fencing out. Yours is a preventative measure. Is it just for me, or for everyone?