safe

Aside my legs (whose two weeks unshaven give me away quite quickly) I feel like I’m about 7. Cut, bruised, scratched, scabbed, and perpetually dirty. I feel quick and clever and always on my toes.

A few weeks ago my mom replied to one of my blogs by reminding me that I’ve always been the shy one. My first response was to receive comfort… Immediately followed by a disdainful, “am not!” resounding in my head. 7. I’ve always considered myself so friendly!

I’ve been mulling over the comment for days, trying to remember when I went from shy to outgoing…and then trying to figure out when exactly I convinced myself that I’m all that outgoing.

Today while dining alone on a rock along the trail (I take that back, there were too many ants to consider myself alone!) I realized that I’m only friendly when I feel safe. Maybe you can resonate with this – even if your “safe” looks different than mine or his or hers. But its like I realized last week…when I feel overwhelmed by a situation, without even realizing it I start to hole up. I avoid eye contact. I don’t say hello on the street. But so long as feel protected or at least somewhat “in the know” then I relax and can be very friendly. When I´m comfortable I talk to EVERYONE (i definitely get that from YOU, dad!).

So I guess after really coming to grips with the fact that my mom was absolutely right, the goal now is to a) relax and b) when I feel myself turning inward examine what it is that seems so threatening and deal with it accordingly.

After all, cuts, bruises, and scrapes are only but battle wounds. They mean that I´ve been doing something that required a bit of a risk. And like Mother Theresa says, there can be no real love without risk.

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lenticular?

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Keep me away from the wisdom which does not cry, the philosophy which does not laugh and the greatness which does not bow before children.
-Kahlil Gibran

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