Aha!

The act of putting pen to paper encourages pause for thought, this in turn makes us think more deeply about life, which helps us regain our equilibrium.  ~Norbet Platt

Let’s face it; I’m lazy. But I like to say indolent because either someone doesn’t know what it means or they’re so mesmerized by my use of a GRE word to care that I recently ran out of silverware and only did the dishes once I ran out of plasticware. See? Lazy. This is isn’t about my laziness. Though epic it’s a different type of ho-hum behavior that brings me to you today. I guess you could say that I am a waiter. Not in the apron wearing, how would you like that cooked? sense but in the I’ll wait for something to happen to me sense. It seems that I’ve turned from go! go after what you want to eh, I’ll just wait for it to come to me. Perhaps that works for others but I’ve found that my lackadaisical undertaking of life has put me in a perpetual funk. Trust me, it’s just funk, a bout of ennui perhaps but not a full blown moment of depression. Though my God enough of these ‘eh, whatever. Let’s go back to bed moments’ happen and suddenly I’m crying in my therapists office wondering whatever went wrong.

Back to the issue at hand: On Friday something awful happened. No one died, everyone is fine. It was an awfulness that can only really be explained and understood if I were to describe background, the players and give you my infamous wild gesticulating and inflection. Otherwise the story is lost on you because you weren’t there. And that’s fine because it isn’t want actually occurred that counts but how it made me feel. There was a brief moment during the dreaded event where I dug my nails into the fleshiest part of my forearm. I pressed harder hoping that I would be able to disappear from my location. I turned my shoulders inward making my body more concave and closed my eyes. Tight. It was the only way to remove myself from the situation, I suppose. Or maybe the natural reaction to an unnatural situation is to want to run. I couldn’t run though so I just sat there and waited it out and then left with two others. And on the way home we rehashed, had a moment of silence to think about what had happened, then went in on how it could have been different. I told my mother what happened on Saturday afternoon where she cringed right along with me. A mirror image if you’ve ever seen us together. She took me shopping and I found the perfect empire waist frock for a dinner next month. Problem solved, right? Wrong.

Though kind of because oh my God, I’m going to look so cute.

Friday was my Aha! moment. And selfishly so because what happened wasn’t about me but it did put everything that I have held dear for so many years, into perspective. I am this person with ideas and stories to tell but I’ve struggled with how to tell these stories because it’s not about the players but my feelings after the playing is done. Without giving away the ending – the one that has yet to be written but has been lived – I believe very strongly in something. To my core. And with a fiery passion. It’s the story that I – finally – want to tell. We all do what we do for a reason. We live our lives with a sense of purpose for greater good because I do believe in my heart of hearts that we want to do good things. We take different approaches of course but we all want to get to that place of Good. On Friday something I have always believed in but have a hard time articulating quite literally fell into my lap. In sum – so yeah, I’m giving you part of the ending – there are the minor few everywhere who become more notorious than those who are just trying to help. I want to tell the story of my encounters with those who aren’t famous. The regular old people that are passionate about the same thing I am passionate about.

On Friday I started that story.