Brussels sprouts are named after their home town. I would be called Arlington Heights. You might be called New York or Omaha, but it is likely you aren’t. Brussels sprouts have a problem right out of the gate. While a sprout may be capital baked and with a bit of butter it is the only veggie I know of which is capitalized.
Pondering life again today, I thought of the nomadic Brussels sprout being chased around the plate, neither desired or rejected. Its ingestion stalled by lack of desire. Nothing personal. There is nothing especially wrong with this particular Brussels sprout. It is all of these little green almost cabbages that cease to inspire.
But I don’t really think it is the Brussels sprout’s job to inspire. I think it is mine. Needing to be inspired from without might require an endless chain of overly interesting things, people, thoughts, ideas, loves, places and more. Something about being that needy doesn’t seem sustainable.
I used to think that if I got the perfect job, had lots of money, a beautiful wife, valedictorian kids and a Mac Air that life would finally be perfect. “Look Ma, no problems.”
I got the Mac Air just yesterday. The perfect wife is just a mail-order bride away. The perfect job is certainly being done by somebody else who probably doesn’t perceive it as perfect. The valedictorian kids aren’t likely to arrive before my inflatable Russian bride.
Pondering perfection from my vantage point as the Brussels sprout, what exactly do I want. Do I want to be eaten? Do I want to be desired? Do I mumble about the good old days back on the vine with my brothers and sisters? Do I believe in reincarnation, hoping to be an artichoke or a huge naval orange?
What I want does tend to be a matter of perspective, and what I really want is a matter or multiple/many perspectives. What I want changes quite constantly based on more factors than I can shake a magic wand at.
Young Love or Marriage
When I was fourteen I went to a wedding. At one point in the ceremony the very serious looking minister boomed, “If anyone has reason to object to this couple being married let them speak now or forever hold their peace.” Not sure why but I looked at the groom. The muscles around his jaw tightened and he didn’t say a word, nor did he look particularly peaceful.
I was left with the idea of forever holding my peace. That sounded pretty good to me and today, so many years later it still does. Actually even having just a little peace from time to time, or especially when I want it, might just hit the spot.
Pondering peace I realized that I am only peaceful when I am at peace with the way things are. Maybe, just maybe, it is me and not the way things are that needs to be more flexible. This is where Changeable Charlie comes in. The difference, for Charlie between happy, sad or mad is just the rotation of the mouth piece of the Charlie matrix. The difference for me between happy, sad and mad is often much more complex, even mysterious.
While I like to think that I am in control of whether I am happy, sad or mad, if pressed, I have to admit that that these emotions show up when they do and have little to do with what I want. If I was in control of these emotions I might be happy all the time, but, on second thought, that would get pretty boring.
I recall visiting my Great Aunt’s home on the shores of Lake Michigan when I was a kid. My Aunt was rich, skinny, tan and funny. Her laugh rippled through her thin agile frame like high gusty winds cut by a metal sculpture.
I loved visiting her huge house and finding the hidden stair case and eating chocolates that were part of the after Christmas meal, assorted in a big box the likes of which I had never seen. But most of all I loved the rocky and sandy beach. Especially the glass my brother and I collected there. Glass with Lake Michigan rounded edges, colored glass that was so smooth and beautiful: our treasure.
The water, it seems had its way with the glass. The world, it seems, has its way with me. It smooths off my edges. It flows by constantly and I, often rigid/sharp to a point, get smoothed and worn.
Peace at Last
I put Changeable Charlie on my ten most wanted list. I want to be able to change like Charlie does. I want to be able flow like the water does smoothing the rough edges of life. I want to be able to leap, crawl, and dance from emotion to emotion, from mood to mood all the while changing just a little faster than the universe does.
I want to smooth off the sharp edges of life by becoming a master of change. Not particular changes, a flow ever so slightly more flexible than the change all around us.
Pegging the persistent problem of most human being is simple. Most/All people are more rigid than the world we live in. Because of this change threatens our rigidity. It scares us and it hurts us. It forces us toward flexibility, it wears down our rough edges.
In order to forever hold my peace I will need to not only embrace the continual change, like Changeable Charlie can but I will want to change even faster than the universe does. I imagine that when this happens I will appear to be the author of all change.
I will be ahead of the wave of change, not holding to any particular point of view or position but, in effect, making this universe a smoother, more seamless and sweeter place to live.
As long as I resist change I am pretty well screwed. But flowing, discovering myself as an agent of change I become the changer not the changed.
I begin this process right now. I may fail and I may succeed, either way, just engaging in this process will enhance my quality of life. I can’t lose when I flow like this.
Join me won’t you? Let’s become the changer not the changed, just for the fun of it, for the love of life and because we can.
If you’d like to read more on evolving change Jeff Carreira’s blog, Evolutionary Philosophy will be a treat
http://evolutionaryphilosophy.com/
If you are ready to join me in the process of evolving change, start with my attention 101 aricle
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