Sunday, January 18, 2015

                              “It’s Raining, It’s Pouring, and Y’all Know the Rest”

     I’ve written about “the rest.” Those two words have taken on many different definitions in recent years, not the least of which is “that thing I don’t take.” Forget about who or what keeps me up at night or what wakes me out of my tinted coma. What about “the rest” I am supposed to take from my conscience. I hate my conscience. If I didn’t have a conscience, I would be a carefree child romping through daisy fields, collecting tadpoles and putting butterflies into jars with holes punched in the tops. But no, I was blessed or cursed with a conscience that tells me what to do, how to do it, why I should do it and how to feel like crap when I don’t. The first few years of my life, this conscience, of which I was unaware, translated as “rules.” Decades later, it’s just a royal pain in the ass.

     I’ve been told throughout my life to “do your best,” “reach for the stars,” “follow your dreams,” “do whatever it takes.” These words have been etched into my psyche and turned me into a driven unstoppable over-achiever who doesn’t even remember what a tadpole is or what a butterfly looks like. My my world came to a screeching halt in the 80s when I got divorced, I pushed my conscience to the back burner and I embraced nature. I ran through a gorgeous park several times a week observing the limbs of trees, the changing leaves, the way the sun reflects off the water and how beautiful butterflies flutter on the gently bending reeds. My high was not just the run; it was the sun and what it lit up inside me. 

      Years later, I am still driving myself nuts over-achieving even into the Golden Years. Why? Because I can, and because I need purpose. Weather permitting, I do get out in nature and revel in its warm caress, but now people are telling me to “let it go,” “relax,” “stop DOing and start BEing.” wtf!? What happened to “reaching for the stars” and “DOing your best?” All of a sudden, I’m supposed to just get out my Swiffer and dust that wisdom into the atmosphere? I don’t think so. 

     This all begs the question:  How do you stop DOing and start BEing. DOBEDOBEDO. Sounds like a feckless rock song to me. If you look up “BE” in the dictionary, you will not find a picture of moi. If you look up “DO,” you will find an effen scrapbook full of yours truly. I laughed at the definition as it used two words which define me:  “perform” and “fulfill.” If you are performing, you are not sitting on your fat cheeks contemplating the wonders of life, and if you are “fulfilling,” you are out there busting your tush getting shit done.

     I “rest” my case.

If you or anyone you know can relate to this concept, please share.