2003-01-05 - 10:14 p.m.
THE LITTLE SOMETHING
Some days allow for reflection. Other days just whirl. You go from closet cleaning to drugstore errands to picking up the kids from religious school. You go from lunch to a meeting with a mock trial team member to more housecleaning to a girl scout pizza party for twelve. You clean up from the party, fold laundry, do more laundry to make sure the root beer is out of the tablecloth, and then re-organize the girl scout items drawer. By the time it�s done, you don�t remember what you thought during the day and can pick out no particular event or moment.
The story is not the ordinary little moments that made up the day. It is not any of the millions of actions. It isn�t even in the discussions which ranged from the story of Nadab and Abihu, Aaron�s sons who made an �alien� offering, to the sad state of affairs in the confirmation class that is out of control to whether an ugly, ugly candleholder should be tossed to the upcoming girl scout cookie sale. The story is in what was not there. Today the little something that sits on my shoulder and observes was missing. I didn�t hear it�s voice.
The little something is almost like having a camera. When you are the photographer, you see the scene differently. That difference is why I stopped taking so many family pictures. I could either participate and be in the event or I could photograph it. I couldn�t do both and I abandoned that form of detachment for more direct participation.
But the little something still often stands between me and being in the moment. When I was younger, the little something that whispers in my ear tended to be judgmental. I�d start to give a speech and the small voice would whisper, �Who would think THAT was interesting?� As I grew, I learned to ignore it but I did not learn to silence it, except at rare moments.
Eventually, the voice stopped judging me and started evaluating the reactions of others. �She doesn�t want to believe you,� it would say. �Just look at the way she�s standing.� The little something was less destructive. Sometimes it was even helpful. But it still seemed alien or alienating. There was me, there was the world, and there was the little something between us.
I�ve had times when the little something was gone before. Occasionally, the little something has disappeared in moments of strong emotion: love, sadness, or anger. But today I was none of those. It was an ordinary albeit busy day. It was a day full of errands and minor actions. It had no particular significance. And it was quiet.
The little something was gone�but I�m not sure whether that was good or bad.
LAST YEAR: Justice and Mercy
LAST FIVE ENTRIES:
The Darkest Hour
Mock Trial
Defending Spaces
Not One-Size-Fits-All
Forget the Suitcase
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Copyright 2006 by Ellen |
