I HAPPENED TO SEE AN ACQUAINTANCE WHO, after a polite “hello,” launched into a long story about something in her life.
Acquaintance, who is living in the River of Denial, started the conversation, which was really more of a soliloquy, with the words “I’m not a _________, but…” and then went on to tell me about her thoughts and actions that from an objective point of view would say that she is a _________.
“Ain’t it the truth? Ain’t it the truth?”
WHILE I ENJOYED THE THEATRICAL UNHINGED WAY in which she rationalized her behavior, I began to ponder, if given the opportunity, what I was going to say to this woman who, without getting into any of the specifics, I’ll describe as a wackadoodle who needs to see a therapist.
However, being the grown-up that I am I chose to say nothing and remain quiet, listening to her and nodding my head in a supportive way, like an extra on stage behind the lead actor.
As one does, even.
EVENTUALLY ACQUAINTANCE FINISHED TELLING ME HER STORY, and me being me, I said the first thing that floated into my mind. I let her know that I understood what she’d been yammering on about by saying Snagglepuss‘s immortal catchphrase: “Heavens to Murgatroyd!”
And that, kids, seemed to be all that she needed to hear me say to her, thus giving me my opportunity to gracefully walk away from this absurd conversation.
On a beautiful sunny afternoon, I parked in front of the donation door at our local Goodwill. I started pulling items out of the trunk of my car, and was carrying two folding chairs, one in each hand, when I tripped over a 3″ high little curb painted a jazzy shade of yellow.
And with that I face-planted myself on the cement sidewalk.
Save for a small scratch on the little finger side of my left hand & a scrape on the top of my right ankle, I didn’t hurt myself. I went down too quickly to even tense up, plus I’m somewhat plump in my older years which helped keep me safe.
I kind of bounced more than I splatted.
I’ll admit that it was a fascinating experience to calmly realize that I was falling face down onto the sidewalk with no way to stop myself. No one near me to catch me.
Just me on my own, falling down. Unceremoniously.
And what was going through my addled brain as this was happening? Well, to be honest, and you wouldn’t want me to be anything but that, I was thinking: “Hmmm… well at least this will make for a good story.”
Yep, no need to worry about me, my gentle readers, I have my priorities in order.
“You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone’s soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift.”
Bloggers often talk about burnout, being unable to think of something to write about. But for me, this week, has been something different from that.
My brain has been in 5th gear all week, going way too fast.
I’ve thought of many things to say here– and even gone so far as to compose a few posts. In fact, I’ve written three lengthy ones that when completed I decided didn’t have the right subject matter or tone for this blog.
So I deleted them.
This has left me feeling mildly panicked about who I am and what to post here today. Odd isn’t it? Too much thinking, too much caring and I end up here today with nothing to say– as if I was burned out.
THE LESSON: Some weeks all roads lead to nothing. And that’s okay.