Summer is here….or spring is doing a real good impression of it. High of 88 today, and I’m voluntarily going out and sweating in it. Nuts.
Thought…
At the age of 10 or thereabouts, children reach a point of development where their real self, or as real as it can be at that age, is right next to the surface. Ask them a question, and they’ll answer it without thinking about what you might want to hear. Watch them in all their gangly, geeky, cheesy, awkward, creative, hilarious, dorky, original selves, and you are seeing the person (a young one, for sure) without all the layers they will build up in the future. Growing up, we put on layers like clothing, protecting ourselves and preening to please the rest of the world. Social skills, flirting, fitting in, looking attractive, listening to the right music, trying to be talented, trying to be funny, making enough money to please everyone else etc. until we’re bundled up like that kid in A Christmas Story. The real You is still in there, it just takes a little longer for someone else to see them. Then, an another point in our lives, we reach a point where all the layers cease to be quite so important. Our sense of self, our confidence in that real person under the layers, matures little by little. One at a time, we shed the remaining articles of clothing until there we are again. The real You. Original, unique, unashamed. All of our quirks and warts and muffin tops, right there for everyone else to see.
How joyful that existence is. I aspire to be there, one day, some day.
Long time friends are the best, because you know who the real Them is. Maybe you’ve been around long enough to peek under the layers, or you’ve known them since the age of 10; Either way, you’ve seen them for all the gloriously original person they are. You treasure them for all that they are, not just what they show to the rest of society. A real friend, a best friend, a husband, a wife, a partner. These relationships are necessary, essential, beautiful.
“A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart, and can sing it back to you when you’ve forgotten the words.”
Sometimes, I don’t like myself.
Good thing there’s someone out there who does. All the time. And there’s nothing I can do to make Him like me more, or less.
A letter came in the mail for me. On any given day, that is awesome. However, this letter had two most excellent things. A letter from my grandmother, detailing her awesome love story with my grandfather. Apparently a man in a uniform is hard to resist. Secondly, it has a $50 cheque to thank me for fixing her necklace that broke. Fixing it took all of fifteen minutes, some patience, and needle-nose pliars. Of the two, the letter is definitely more valuable…and my grandmother is pretty awesome.
My body is awesome. Seriously though, in a non-narcissistic way my body is really really great. Any damage I do to it will disappear eventually…it heals itself, can get stronger (if the right circumstances occur), can get more flexible, and I can do so much with it! Hike bike swim walk etc…. Bodies are fantastic! Mine is perfect, it was made just right and every part of me that should be working IS.
Except right now….this bloody shit awful cold is preventing my awesome body from functioning like it should. 3 weeks, and I’m on virus #3. Each one lasted about a week, and I was getting better (almost all the way better!) and then my freakin low immune system (tiredness+busy+no proper rest) let another one slip in. This has got to stop.
Tea, and Cough syrup ftw…
so good….and so very accurate. I love kitties !
Epic fun of the weekend.
Saturday - up at 6am, leave at 7 for the Chattooga. Outside temp: 25 degrees. Swing by the house for gear and greet sleep rumpled parents. Don layers and layers of gear in an attempt to stay warm. Put on the water at 8:50am. It’s snowing. The river is gorgeous. I think it saves its most beautiful face for the few intrepid adventurers that brave February to paddle. Translucent blue green water, topped with white foamy waves. Level is 1.55 at the bridge gauge. Perfect. Colby styled Thrifts to Woodall like a pro. Sorry ladies…he’s all mine. Walt, Al and I kept going down to the lake while he ran shuttle. The five falls went by fast. We didn’t scout, just bombed down. I flew off the dog. So good. One long lake paddle later, and it was over. Replenished, refreshed, and rejuvenated…back to reality.
Life is tough. For sure.
