Well, I just smashed my finger between my ring and the door jam. Ouch. There's a deep welt from the sudden pressure (actually, it's very nearly a cut), my finger is swelling up, and I am certain there will be some sort of bruise before the end of the day. It hurt, I gotta say it. A lot more than I would have expected.
I had been in the middle of trying to get a surprise ready for my boyfriend, (which is why I was hurrying), and I wanted to just keep doing what I was working on. I tried to move straight from smashing my finger to that task without pausing, but the level of injury demanded that I take a moment to asses my wound and breathe as I let out the pain. And then my mind did one of those things it does:
Sometimes we become physically injured enough we have to stop and asses how we're doing. Why do we have a hard time letting ourselves do the same thing when we are injured emotionally? An injury is an injury. It's valid to simply make sure that you're ok when you have one, whatever the type. Sometimes, what I need more than anything is to stop and breathe the pain out. I think that's ok, and I think we could do better in acknowledging pain--not getting lost in it, but just saying, "Hey, this feeling is present." I think it helps us move forward more easily.
Just something I thought today.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Saturday, September 6, 2014
Exploring
I grew up in a house groaning with books.
There were hundreds of them, no exaggeration. We easily packed 35-45 boxes of just books when we moved. Some were classics. Some were fiction. Science fiction, fantasy, biographies, scientific studies, religious studies, cultural studies, histories, world studies; everything! I think of it now and it amazes me.
Let me tell you, you can learn a lot in a house full of books. There's something to having constant access to the written word that's impossible to duplicable. There were so many times when I just picked something up and leafed through it, and ended up learning something I could have found in no other way.
Tonight, as I was brushing my teeth just a few minutes ago, I was thinking of a story that stayed with me. It was from an anthology of science fiction which, if I recall correctly, was edited by Piers Anthony. The title had something to do with a 24-hour cafe? Anyhow.
One of the short stories in the anthology was about a teenager at the 24-hour cafe. The cafe is at the edge of town, and he works the night shift. A lot of odd people drift in and out of the cafe during his shift, and after working there for a while, the boy starts to suspect that maybe some of the people aren't from our planet.
One night he inadvertently gets into a conversation with a customer who overhears him muttering to himself about how bored he is with his life and its changelessness. As the conversation progresses, the customer confirms the boy's suspicions and admits to being an alien. He teaches the boy how to tell who of the other odd customers are alien, too, and goes on to explain that there is a flaw in space travel. The only known method is random, so you never know where you're going to end up. Because of this, once you've traveled, it's pretty well impossible to find your way back home. A lot of the space travelers the boy sees on his shift are endlessly taking the chance, in an effort to be able to return to the places and the people that they love. It's a vicious cycle of searching for home that wears on the traveler and eventually takes away the beauty and wonder of having been to unknown worlds in the first place.
The boy starts excitedly asking the customer about the galaxies and worlds that he's been to. Because of how the conversation had started, and the kind of questions he is asking, the customer can tell that the boy is thinking of hopping on a ship the next chance he gets. So, instead of sharing his travel experiences with the boy, the customer gives him a piece of advice: Rather than permanently give up your family and home, stay on your world, and explore it. Go away from everything you're familiar with for as long as you need. Travel your own earth and discover the millions of places, people, cultures, and sights it has. Experience entirely new things, and leave yourself the option to return home, should you ever want to.
There is something profound in this advice. After traveling, myself, to entirely new places with hitherto unseen animals, plants, people, places, cultures, and sights, I can attest that there's an endless possibility for new experiences here. I think, when we pause to consider our world, that's part of what makes is so stunning. There is just SO much to experience! I love that.
I love that there is always something new to see. I love that I learned that from a book, looking at the same familiar walls, in the same familiar room, sitting on the the same familiar furniture, that I had known for years. I love that even if you can't go to the place you want at this time, you CAN, if you can read. I am so grateful for that house, bursting with bookshelves and the worlds they contain. I'm grateful for all it taught me about our world, and all it left open for me to discover. And I'm endlessly grateful that I've been blessed with opportunities to go out and discover!
"...there's more to see than can ever be seen/ ...more to do than can ever be done/ There's far too much to take in here/ More to find then can ever be found..." -The Lion King, "The Circle of Life"
There were hundreds of them, no exaggeration. We easily packed 35-45 boxes of just books when we moved. Some were classics. Some were fiction. Science fiction, fantasy, biographies, scientific studies, religious studies, cultural studies, histories, world studies; everything! I think of it now and it amazes me.
Let me tell you, you can learn a lot in a house full of books. There's something to having constant access to the written word that's impossible to duplicable. There were so many times when I just picked something up and leafed through it, and ended up learning something I could have found in no other way.
Tonight, as I was brushing my teeth just a few minutes ago, I was thinking of a story that stayed with me. It was from an anthology of science fiction which, if I recall correctly, was edited by Piers Anthony. The title had something to do with a 24-hour cafe? Anyhow.
One of the short stories in the anthology was about a teenager at the 24-hour cafe. The cafe is at the edge of town, and he works the night shift. A lot of odd people drift in and out of the cafe during his shift, and after working there for a while, the boy starts to suspect that maybe some of the people aren't from our planet.
One night he inadvertently gets into a conversation with a customer who overhears him muttering to himself about how bored he is with his life and its changelessness. As the conversation progresses, the customer confirms the boy's suspicions and admits to being an alien. He teaches the boy how to tell who of the other odd customers are alien, too, and goes on to explain that there is a flaw in space travel. The only known method is random, so you never know where you're going to end up. Because of this, once you've traveled, it's pretty well impossible to find your way back home. A lot of the space travelers the boy sees on his shift are endlessly taking the chance, in an effort to be able to return to the places and the people that they love. It's a vicious cycle of searching for home that wears on the traveler and eventually takes away the beauty and wonder of having been to unknown worlds in the first place.
The boy starts excitedly asking the customer about the galaxies and worlds that he's been to. Because of how the conversation had started, and the kind of questions he is asking, the customer can tell that the boy is thinking of hopping on a ship the next chance he gets. So, instead of sharing his travel experiences with the boy, the customer gives him a piece of advice: Rather than permanently give up your family and home, stay on your world, and explore it. Go away from everything you're familiar with for as long as you need. Travel your own earth and discover the millions of places, people, cultures, and sights it has. Experience entirely new things, and leave yourself the option to return home, should you ever want to.
There is something profound in this advice. After traveling, myself, to entirely new places with hitherto unseen animals, plants, people, places, cultures, and sights, I can attest that there's an endless possibility for new experiences here. I think, when we pause to consider our world, that's part of what makes is so stunning. There is just SO much to experience! I love that.
I love that there is always something new to see. I love that I learned that from a book, looking at the same familiar walls, in the same familiar room, sitting on the the same familiar furniture, that I had known for years. I love that even if you can't go to the place you want at this time, you CAN, if you can read. I am so grateful for that house, bursting with bookshelves and the worlds they contain. I'm grateful for all it taught me about our world, and all it left open for me to discover. And I'm endlessly grateful that I've been blessed with opportunities to go out and discover!
"...there's more to see than can ever be seen/ ...more to do than can ever be done/ There's far too much to take in here/ More to find then can ever be found..." -The Lion King, "The Circle of Life"
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