I’ve been thinking about this blog and how it’s about living well, but I have been compelled to write about some of the wrestling matches I have had to have with the less-than-lovely part of myself. This is the quest to live richly? How much better is it than watching beefy men in lycra theatrically piledrive one another?
Having a good life means not having to be paranoid about death. This makes me think of a school project. The only times I have been paranoid about the due date is when I really haven’t used my time well and done my best job. Which has been basically every time, but that’s beside the point. The point is that, to me, living a good life does not equal putting up with, tolerating, barely surviving. We’re going to be dead! And there is plenty we can’t control, so we may as well control our choices! If we are not in the midst of a crisis, our time and energy is better spent discriminating and choosing, taking risks that will bring us satisfaction, LOVING.
There is that beast inside of me- you’ve read about her. You may have her twin inside of you. The self-directed inner jerk who does her best to interfere with my efforts. She has a lot of patience for others’ humanity but almost none for mine. She has been a much better friend to my friends than she has to me. Over the last thirteen years, she has lost strength and significance, but she still doesn’t apply the same kindness to me that she does to others. Entirely unfair.
What can I do but wrestle the beeyotch when I detect her presence? She’s asking for a fight because she gets in my way when I’m trying to discriminate and choose, take risks, and LOVE. Next time she shows up, I’m going to piledrive her by doing something very kind for myself. Then I’ll body slam her by sticking up for myself and turning up the music so I can’t hear her horrible voice. Then I’ll grab her by the neck and shake her by doing something creative. Everybody likes lady wrestling better anyway, right? Yes, I’m shuddering.
Addendum: A couple hours after writing this, I followed through. Some daffodils in the front yard are starting to bloom. Glancing at the neglected planter, the beast said, “It’s no thanks to you those daffodils are blooming.” I replied, “Those bulbs would not have made it in to the ground without me.”