Maybe I am working things out on paper in an effort to resolve issues that I have been carrying around with me. The scars of the past are etched into and under my skin - indelible tattoos that commemorate achievements, mark indiscretions, and document misunderstandings. Rather than beaming with pride, polishing the trophies of my successes, I instead find myself fretting over the missteps I have made, and look for long sleeves to cover the marks. The prized possessions and unwieldy burdens of my past seem to persistently buzz around in my mind like those summer gnats that are unswattable - that no matter how fast you walk away from them seem to stay a part of your airspace. Am I looking for the 'undo' button, so I can back-track to that pivotal moment or phrase that set me onto a slippery emotional path towards future remorse? While attending an art reception years ago, I made some harsh comments about a few pieces on display - wondering out loud why on earth this piece of crap had been selected for an award and not some other. I later found out that the artist had been standing behind me with her two young daughters. There those kids were, all dressed up and here on a special trip to see their Mom get an award - only to hear some mean lady trash talking her beautiful creation. We've all put our foot in our mouth at times and this is one I replay again and again, wishing to be able to hit the mute button on myself. In front of her kids, Jeeze! What a jerk I was. No I hadn't burned down a church or strangled a puppy, but I cringe every time I recall that incident. Now when I am ready to shoot off my mouth in public, I remember those two little kids and put on the safety, lest I harm them or my feet. My memory is a creation that I return to and tweak, sometimes with the insights of maturity, sometimes with a new piece of information which skews things into a different arrangement, most times with a sigh of resignation. But every once in awhile, a new revelation shines a light on previously darkened passages and I find a pathway to serenity. In a never ending process of mending tears and holes in the suit that clothes me for life, those patches become hard-earned badges that commemorate lessons learned.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Tattoos
Maybe I am working things out on paper in an effort to resolve issues that I have been carrying around with me. The scars of the past are etched into and under my skin - indelible tattoos that commemorate achievements, mark indiscretions, and document misunderstandings. Rather than beaming with pride, polishing the trophies of my successes, I instead find myself fretting over the missteps I have made, and look for long sleeves to cover the marks. The prized possessions and unwieldy burdens of my past seem to persistently buzz around in my mind like those summer gnats that are unswattable - that no matter how fast you walk away from them seem to stay a part of your airspace. Am I looking for the 'undo' button, so I can back-track to that pivotal moment or phrase that set me onto a slippery emotional path towards future remorse? While attending an art reception years ago, I made some harsh comments about a few pieces on display - wondering out loud why on earth this piece of crap had been selected for an award and not some other. I later found out that the artist had been standing behind me with her two young daughters. There those kids were, all dressed up and here on a special trip to see their Mom get an award - only to hear some mean lady trash talking her beautiful creation. We've all put our foot in our mouth at times and this is one I replay again and again, wishing to be able to hit the mute button on myself. In front of her kids, Jeeze! What a jerk I was. No I hadn't burned down a church or strangled a puppy, but I cringe every time I recall that incident. Now when I am ready to shoot off my mouth in public, I remember those two little kids and put on the safety, lest I harm them or my feet. My memory is a creation that I return to and tweak, sometimes with the insights of maturity, sometimes with a new piece of information which skews things into a different arrangement, most times with a sigh of resignation. But every once in awhile, a new revelation shines a light on previously darkened passages and I find a pathway to serenity. In a never ending process of mending tears and holes in the suit that clothes me for life, those patches become hard-earned badges that commemorate lessons learned.
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