This is how it works: heal, breathe, and use your words.

I haven’t deliberated over my life in quite some time, but leave it to the powers that be to slow me down with a broken rib.  Breathing requires such concentration that I have no choice but to focus on the only thing I can do, at the moment–think.  I wouldn’t claim to be a wordsmith, anymore.  No, that title left me months ago along with other descriptors–confident, spiritually evolved, kind, gentle, optimistic, loving, hopeful…to name a few.  Nothing in particular happened to derail me, but rather caught up to me.

As I get older and time becomes more valuable, moments of reflection get smaller and more specific.  An outlook on the world becomes too large to manage, and scaling back is the only way to not become overwhelmed, so interpretation on a case-by-case basis shapes perspective.  And, perspectives change; so much change.  It’s hard to get a good grip on change and such concepts as “using your words”–wordsmith skills– can easily slip through your fingers unless you practice,  after all practice makes perfect.  Behavior is surprising enough without throwing in an inability to communicate.

Last month I was headed to an event with two friends.  We were in a cab exchanging self-characteristic type things.  I launched into a characteristic about myself, and then paused mid-sentence. “Actually, that’s not true,” I said. “It’s one of those things I would like to think was true about me, but isn’t.”  For the life of me I can’t recall the characteristic, but it wasn’t an inherent characteristic of me and one I would likely never acquire.  It made me feel strange and uncomfortable to admit that, but it was true.  Cue Regina Spektor‘s “On The Radio”

…this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else’s heart
Pumping someone else’s blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don’t get harmed
But even if it does
You’ll just do it all again…

I’m figuring out that, for the most part, people teach you about yourself.  Someone told me, once, that hate is equally important than love; love teaches you about others, but hate teaches you about yourself.  Entrusting another with your heart is a scary event–even more so if you don’t  have a clear perspective on who you are in the first place–but each invitation brings a new moment to practice being you.

Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Running of The Bulls With Inconsistent People.

A lot can be learned in the consistency or inconsistency of a person; where they are, who they are, the direction they are headed, their vehicle of getting there, and whether or not they’re a hitchhiker.

Historical data wouldn’t necessarily say that I was a good driver, per se, but I’m confident in the forecasts.  I’m much better as a passenger, really.  Even better as a backseat driver.  I’ve never hitchhiked, unless you count the one time I was doing one of those charity walk-a-thons and hijacked the tailgate of a pickup truck until a quarter-mile of the finish line, but I have picked up hitchhikers – which could be considered more dangerous.  Inside our windowed instruments of transportation cohering to the road, protected from the incontinence of those afoot, we know our intentions are to drive. The unpredictability of the accidental passenger diverts our attention, but the pull of the story lures us into picking them up along the way.  At least if you’re a driver like me.

I make no excuses for my dualism, and what you see is always what you get.  While I may always change, I try to remain consistent with others as it’s the form of trust that speaks louder than a promise.   This has brought into my life the stability to simply “be” and be loved as I am, and the consistent people surrounding me, albeit crazy in their own right, my support system

Being with an inconsistent person is like being at the Running of The Bulls;  conflicted excitement of adventure, risk, and chaos, until you become the casualty. All it takes is one trip before you have a bull’s horn through your heart. If you’re mostly consistent then you’ll have people to help you when you fall, otherwise you’ll get trampled on running for your life.

Eventually, you’ll want to grab the bull by the horns and jump into the vehicle of consistency because…well…how else will you get to the hospital?


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