The farther I wander down Blogger's Path, the more enlightened I am about the propensity toward turning every daily thought and deed into a potential post- it's simply involuntary for bloggers. It's as natural as breathing or itching a mosquito bite. Bloggers are writers, even if not renowned authors. And I'm amazed every day at how many writers there actually are and how much commonality exists between these writers. I used to think that the generation and regeneration of words forming and organizing themselves in my head all day long, as I brush my teeth, dry my hair, drive to anywhere, fry chicken, plant tomatoes...was an experience unique to me -just part of the way God cleverly designed me with an entertainment center built into my head. But no. It is an idiosyncrasy of the writer. But how many of these words and ideas are ever truly original?
I am discovering that the thoughts and experiences and even the words of the blog writers in my new world, while different in the particulars, are surprisingly similar to my own!
Here are a few personal examples:
One of the very first posts I ever read was one about the
fear of traveling written by Lid, who was about to go on an airplane. I remember after reading it I thought that it really could have been me who wrote it. Not that I would have written it that well or with that same sharp wit and wonderful words. I couldn't have done that. But the person Lid was writing about, who is more than a little afraid to fly and isn't so savvy at getting around in unfamiliar cities- that person is me, to a T. At the bottom of the post were 18 comments from people who were also that person. Yesterday, 37 others, including myself were the person in
Lid's story that unrolled, revealing that many have walked out of a store forgetting to pay for an item in their cart.
Earlier this week I read
MyADHDMe's post on tanning and the part about copping the perfect tan in the olden days was quite parallel to how we used to get one in 1979- right down to the slathering on of baby oil and trying to drum up the patience to remain lateral on the lounge chair under the sun for more than 15 minutes. I had already written
my own version of that post.
On another occasion I was thinking about how behind the times I am and how my new blogging fever was "bringing my computer skills up into the 21st century". Later I was reading my real time friend and blogger
Best Bets and that very day she posted those very words.
This morning the phenomenon presented again, only not in blogland, but in bookland.
First some background.
I have more driving hang-ups than I have hooks to hang them up on. This subject is so broad it must wait for another post. But because of my driving dilemmas, my concerned and protectoral husband gave me a GPS for Christmas this past year. I love that talking wonder to smithereens, especially when she says, "you have arrived". I cannot express how relieved and happy I always feel when she assures me that I have arrived. Since Christmas I have been thinking about how I am this person who is definitely waiting to "arrive"- not just to the museum downtown, but to that place in life where I'll know for sure that I am what I am supposed to be and am doing what I am supposed to be doing. I've been mulling this over for about four months and was recently thinking about using it to create a thought provoking post.
For Mother's Day, Outside the Box bought me a copy of a shiny, orange book called Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist. From the very first paragraph, I was the person Shauna was writing about in the book. It was uncanny, especially because I'd been noticing all those shared brain waves I was having with so many bloggers. I was becoming unnerved. As Shauna began to reveal more details about who she was and her childhood etc., I rested easier. We did have separate identies, but I still connected with the heart of each chapter, so it was perfect. I was enjoying the book. Then this morning, still lying in my warm, comfy bed, I picked up Cold Tangerines and turned to page 207 where I had left off the night before. When I got to the very last paragraph on the page, I found this:
*"My dad used to have one of those cars where you can plug in your destination and the woman's voice will tell you where to turn and when to stop to get you there. And when you get there, she says, in this totally dramatic, slightly sexy, slow voice, "You. Have. Arriiiiiiived."Oh. My. Gosh. I couldn't turn the page. I couldn't believe I just read those words in this book. I would never use my brilliant analogy in a post. Was this possible? I did make myself read on, but there was a tight feeling in my chest:
*"And we burst out (turn the page) laughing at each other the first time we heard it. We wanted her to say it again. We wanted to plug in more places, and then go to them, just so that she would tell us again that We. Have. Arrived. It was the greatest car in the world. You knew, cognitively, that she was a computer, and that she was only talking about arriving at the dry cleaner, but another part of you just melted when she said it. "Me? Me? I've arrived? Thank you! Say it again!"
Yep. That was pretty much it. My thoughts exactly, except I didn't have the whole car, just the GPS unit. Shauna goes on to make the comparison of how she, for so long, had been waiting to arrive, to get to wherever it was she was going and stay there. She concludes that "
we will not arrive. But we can become"- by just keeping on moving forward etc. etc. She makes a beautiful statement at the end of this chapter, but I won't ruin it for you here.
I stewed over this for about two minutes, then I plunked my feet on the floor and walked fervently to the kitchen carrying the shiny, orange book. How did I feel? How did I really feel?
Outside the Box appeared, looking for breakfast. I explained the whole thing to him, the long version from beginning to end- about my commonality with blog writers and my idea for a post with a you have arrived analogy. I used all my best arguments to defend my feelings where needed. He listened with a slight knowing smile he inherited from his father. Then he gave me the 22 year old with a college degree rebuttal of what I had just said.
He reminded me that God created us all in his image and while we all have our individual identities, as a whole we are the body of Christ, one in the same. Humanity identifies with itself quite naturally. He said it has been this way since forever. Additionally, if you take a group of people who all like to write, who are, for the most part, in this case, all from the North American continent and who all have computers- then you already have a semi-homogeneous group. He expounded these spiritual and scientific points until he had it all figured out. Then he ate his eggs, bacon and toast and left.
One crumb of his food for thought stuck in my mind:
He'd just had dinner the night before with his former roommate from college, a scholar from a small village in Kenya who had received a rare opportunity to study in the United States. The boy had recently received two calls of distress from his mother, who was home in Kenya. There wasn't enough clean water for all of the villagers and that was causing all sorts of problems for the people there. Outside the Box challenged me to identify with that.
While I was unscrambling this brain breakfast, Fashionista finally roused and scuffled her way into the kitchen. She proceeded to tell me about her Tuesday evening. Downtown, at the weekly, outdoor swing dancing event, some kid was taking a survey for his church. He had approached Fashionista and her friends and asked them question #1."What gives your life meaning and purpose?"
She looked at me, "So what would you say, Mom?"
I needed more coffee. But I did learn this. If being the first person to publish what I think is an original thought gives my life meaning and purpose, it is time to take a trip to Kenya.
*
Niequist, Shauna. Cold Tangerines. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2007Heidi
"I like your shirt."
Tiger Balm Arthritis Rub ingredients include: camphor, menthol, cajuput oil (an extremely pungent heat rub developed in about 1870 as a decongestant inhalant) which explained the healing effect when opening the cupboard- and methylsulfonylmethane. So, I figured we were lucky the shelving hadn't disintegrated.
