You don’t have to tell me it could be worse because I have lived various forms of worse and some of them have been the sort of awful that incapacitate people.
But then again there have been many who have lived through experiences that make my could be worse look simple which only goes to remind me about how much of life is based upon perspective…and experience.
Experience plays a significant role in so many ways.
I have been in financial positions that are a 10 times better and a 1000 thousand times worse than my current one.
Have had and lost the kind of love you see in movies or maybe not.
Books and movies say you never really lose that kind of thing, it just changes.
And all of these moments and minutes have led me to this place where I alternate between feeling weathered, wise and worn.
Or in simpler terms, sometimes I am convinced I know enough and sometimes not.
Parenting Is…Hard
I have never been in a situation in which I didn’t know where my children were missing. I can’t imagine how hard that must be and no one will be surprised if I say I pray I never do.
But I do know more than a little bit about fear caused by being a parent and the impact of certain things upon a father/mother.
Yeah, I know more than a little and while I know it is not the same as what others have experienced or are experiencing I know enough.
Because some things aren’t as simple as a nick, scrape or a bruise.
Some things don’t just go away or resolve in ways that make you shrug your shoulder and say ‘aw shucks.”
Those things change you and if they don’t, well there is something wrong with you.
And so I have changed, am changed and still changing.
Maybe the events and moments of time would have brought me to the place I find myself standing in regardless of the other activities and their influence, or maybe not.
It is impossible to say for certain.
All I can say is now my thoughts about following your heart are a bit different than they used to be. Now, I lean more towards it than I ever did.
An Indian Diet
A client told me he is going to take me shopping because if I adopt an Indian diet I’ll drop six to eight inches in my waist and see the hair on my head return.
I didn’t tell him about the time a Chicken Vindaloo dinner turned me into a biological weapon of mass destruction but I didn’t say no either.
Dropping a few inches off of the old waist wouldn’t be a horrible thing, but I have to tell you I am not sure I really want hair on my head again.
There is a certain freedom that comes with not having to worry about brushing my hair or being concerned about hats and convertibles.
There are no bad hair days for me or concern about whether my hair looks stupid in pictures.
Freedom is precious–would I really want to give that up?
Probably not.
But if I could grow hair again and I could make it straight, well maybe I would consider it. Maybe I’d grow some long thick mountain man hair to go with my wild beard.
Ok, the beard isn’t as wild as it could be as I keep it trimmed more or less, but it does have its moments.
Holding On
I still sense big changes coming down the pike and feel like some of them are going to be the sort that will leave me gasping for breath.
Not necessarily in a bad way either, more like the sort of feeling you get after you finish some physical event that you didn’t think you could do.
Could be the kind of thing where you pat yourself on the back because you just proved your training paid off or the sort where you look up at the sky and thank the powers that be for saving you from your own stupidity.
Either way there is a bit of an adrenaline rush–guess I’ll have to wait and see how it all unfolds.
Should you follow your heart?
Maybe.
