I always wonder what kind of impact I will make on the world. Doesn't everyone?
Do we not all wonder what we'll turn out as, some of us secretively, some of us blatantly obviously, and for some of us, it's hard to believe that we even think of others even while we're sitting on the toilet and have nothing else to think about.
It's never my intention to make my name known, but it is on the contrary, to share ideas and I'll admit, maybe to show to people that I have known at some point in my life, that I have changed. I am not who I once was.
I hope you aren't either, unless you were a saint.
Life is journey, and you can't truly grow unless you learn from your mistakes and use them as stepping stones. I accidentally typed stoners.
That was funny and quirky.
That is the richness of life- the quirky moments, the small things, the times where you think no one notices you, and they do.
I hate to sound preachy, arbitrary even, but I mean it when I say that life is rich- even when rain is predicted. It's full when we see empty. It's beauty in the mire. We fail to see the simple abundance of goodness when we are surrounded with it because we find ourselves consumed with earthly desires.
We think we all need to be rich, to be heard, to be known, to be understood by all. Truthfully, and by God, we all won't achieve that, and realistically, we won't understand why. But as soon as we can understand that the small things are what make up life, we will begin to reap the benefits of a deeper understanding. You don't have to be rich and famous to impact the world.
The impact of goodness doesn't have a number attached to it. It's not quantitative. Thank God it's not.
My Mom asked me the other day as I was walking up the stairs at her house, and at such a perfectly appropriate time, if I didn't feel that writing a blog for everyone to see (those few who take active interest), was exploitative (not her word), even invasive of my privacy. I'm sure it wasn't my privacy that she was most concerned about.
So, with respect for her, I'll not speak of her unless something really juicy happens from now on.
I don't want to put a strain on our relationship.
But here's the deal: I enjoy the ability to be frank in writing. It's such a release. I honestly think everyone in the world should find their voice through writing.
Most people can't speak out loud. They refrain from confronting situations that propose honesty in its purest form.
We all are guilty of it.
We won't talk about what happens in the virtual world.
We use computers and computer programs to hide and to make avatars of who we would really like to be.
In fact, I believe, and I spoke with a long time friend about this just yesterday, that we don't even choose communication anymore.
We choose to text instead of talk. We choose to email instead of calling. We choose to evite instead of taking the time to buy stamps.
We are constantly taking short cuts. Why?
How have we gotten so far removed from others that we take short cuts in our personal lives? We don't have relationships anymore. We barely even see each other face to face. We hide in our little "me bubbles", and I hate that.
My mom rarely talks to anyone outside of her bubble. And that's OK for her. It's what some people do. It's normal.
I don't want to be normal.
I don't want to be in the bubble. I would give anything to have my mom's open mindedness, her understanding, her wisdom. One day I will. What price will I have to pay to get it, I wonder? That's unimportant.
What it's like to have those qualities...that's what I'm after.
I am not at that point yet in my life where I can be comfortable with who I am without making a statement. It's who I am right now. It's probably what I will be for a while. I was born to be that person. The loud one. The constant advocate. The debater.
But when it all comes down to the nitty gritty, I'm about everyone else. It's not about me. It's about you.
It's about what you stand for, and how I can help you. You should see the trails of thoughts inside my brain, riding the waves like it's the hundred year storm and you are Bodhi in Australia and Keanu Reeves is waiting to lock you wrists together at the shore.
Mom, if I write about you, please don't be upset with me. That's all I can really say because I write about what I am about. And if you are a part of my life, you can most likely assume that you will be in some story that I will write. That goes for everyone.
Sarah, my four year old, has told me on a few occasions that I embarrass her. I told her to get used to it. That's mean isn't it?
No, I told her this: Sarah, the things that are important for you are important to me. And the things that are important to me, are important to my family, and the things that are important to my friends are important to their family, and that's how the world goes around. Whether you want to admit it or not, people care. Get used to it. I care. I love you, or I wouldn't tell anyone the funny little things you say.
Her response: Mom, let's just keep some things a secret.
What can I say to that but, "I love you, and you're awesome. Don't let anyone EVER tell you different. I know, and I'm your mom."
That is exactly what I said.
That was what I meant.
I am so psyched about Christmas. Yaaaaaay! It's the world's chance to be what God intended us to be- in unison.
Are you excited for the right reasons? Are you going to stop not believing?
Do we not all wonder what we'll turn out as, some of us secretively, some of us blatantly obviously, and for some of us, it's hard to believe that we even think of others even while we're sitting on the toilet and have nothing else to think about.
It's never my intention to make my name known, but it is on the contrary, to share ideas and I'll admit, maybe to show to people that I have known at some point in my life, that I have changed. I am not who I once was.
I hope you aren't either, unless you were a saint.
Life is journey, and you can't truly grow unless you learn from your mistakes and use them as stepping stones. I accidentally typed stoners.
That was funny and quirky.
That is the richness of life- the quirky moments, the small things, the times where you think no one notices you, and they do.
I hate to sound preachy, arbitrary even, but I mean it when I say that life is rich- even when rain is predicted. It's full when we see empty. It's beauty in the mire. We fail to see the simple abundance of goodness when we are surrounded with it because we find ourselves consumed with earthly desires.
We think we all need to be rich, to be heard, to be known, to be understood by all. Truthfully, and by God, we all won't achieve that, and realistically, we won't understand why. But as soon as we can understand that the small things are what make up life, we will begin to reap the benefits of a deeper understanding. You don't have to be rich and famous to impact the world.
The impact of goodness doesn't have a number attached to it. It's not quantitative. Thank God it's not.
My Mom asked me the other day as I was walking up the stairs at her house, and at such a perfectly appropriate time, if I didn't feel that writing a blog for everyone to see (those few who take active interest), was exploitative (not her word), even invasive of my privacy. I'm sure it wasn't my privacy that she was most concerned about.
So, with respect for her, I'll not speak of her unless something really juicy happens from now on.
I don't want to put a strain on our relationship.
But here's the deal: I enjoy the ability to be frank in writing. It's such a release. I honestly think everyone in the world should find their voice through writing.
Most people can't speak out loud. They refrain from confronting situations that propose honesty in its purest form.
We all are guilty of it.
We won't talk about what happens in the virtual world.
We use computers and computer programs to hide and to make avatars of who we would really like to be.
In fact, I believe, and I spoke with a long time friend about this just yesterday, that we don't even choose communication anymore.
We choose to text instead of talk. We choose to email instead of calling. We choose to evite instead of taking the time to buy stamps.
We are constantly taking short cuts. Why?
How have we gotten so far removed from others that we take short cuts in our personal lives? We don't have relationships anymore. We barely even see each other face to face. We hide in our little "me bubbles", and I hate that.
My mom rarely talks to anyone outside of her bubble. And that's OK for her. It's what some people do. It's normal.
I don't want to be normal.
I don't want to be in the bubble. I would give anything to have my mom's open mindedness, her understanding, her wisdom. One day I will. What price will I have to pay to get it, I wonder? That's unimportant.
What it's like to have those qualities...that's what I'm after.
I am not at that point yet in my life where I can be comfortable with who I am without making a statement. It's who I am right now. It's probably what I will be for a while. I was born to be that person. The loud one. The constant advocate. The debater.
But when it all comes down to the nitty gritty, I'm about everyone else. It's not about me. It's about you.
It's about what you stand for, and how I can help you. You should see the trails of thoughts inside my brain, riding the waves like it's the hundred year storm and you are Bodhi in Australia and Keanu Reeves is waiting to lock you wrists together at the shore.
Mom, if I write about you, please don't be upset with me. That's all I can really say because I write about what I am about. And if you are a part of my life, you can most likely assume that you will be in some story that I will write. That goes for everyone.
Sarah, my four year old, has told me on a few occasions that I embarrass her. I told her to get used to it. That's mean isn't it?
No, I told her this: Sarah, the things that are important for you are important to me. And the things that are important to me, are important to my family, and the things that are important to my friends are important to their family, and that's how the world goes around. Whether you want to admit it or not, people care. Get used to it. I care. I love you, or I wouldn't tell anyone the funny little things you say.
Her response: Mom, let's just keep some things a secret.
What can I say to that but, "I love you, and you're awesome. Don't let anyone EVER tell you different. I know, and I'm your mom."
That is exactly what I said.
That was what I meant.
I am so psyched about Christmas. Yaaaaaay! It's the world's chance to be what God intended us to be- in unison.
Are you excited for the right reasons? Are you going to stop not believing?
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