So I know I’ve been MIA but that it all ends tonight.
I had dinner with a friend of mine tonight and during the course of our three and half hour lady-date, we covered a lot of topics including a little guilt trip about not writing, so I came home, returned my pants to laundry pile from which they were picked out of before dinner and sat down at my desk. Kaelin, Dagmar, J-Ho and other others that have made comments – this one’s for you.
I know that you are all wondering about the title – cults and heroin and before we go any further, no those aren’t the reasons I have been neglecting you.
One of the topics that we were discussing tonight was sleeping and things we watch to fall asleep on the TV at night. Someone, not me, tried foolishly to fall asleep to the mesmerizing National Geographic movie, Jane, all about Jane Goodall. ( side note – if you haven’t seen it- watch it) This of course led into a discussion of Jane and how from an early age, she climbed trees ( not normal play for a girl of her generation) and didn’t live a typical life but instead, one with amazing focus and dedication to the chimps she went to Africa to study. She was so dedicated in her focus to learning about the chimps, that she sent her own small child to boarding school so she could get back to the chimps. And for a moment, I was wistful because I have never found one thing that I have focused that intently on my whole life. Nothing that I knew for sure was calling and then, I realized that maybe this wasn’t a bad thing because on the flip side, I know with certainty that I definitely do not have the stick-to-it-ness to get sucked into a cult.
And that’s something I think we need to think about more. We are so quick to look at the ways we are different from other people as shortcomings instead of embracing them as gifts. For example, instead of being really sad that I messed up with my hair with a drug store box dye and now have orange hair on the top and bright yellow straw hair on the bottom, I am really happy that I will get to spend some quality time with my hair dresser, Abby and allow her to really use her problem solving skills. Instead of lamenting that I have crappy, hard to find veins, I can reassure my mom that I will never be a heroin junky.
Seriously, though – I know that I spend so much time thinking about what I am not that I forget what I am. Can imagine how different just for a few days – if you flipped the script and when you saw a difference in yourself, you recognized the good that it brought you? Just think about one thing that you wish was different and try to look at it the other way, from a different angle, how someone else might look at that and wish they had what you had. It certainly couldn’t hurt.