An old counselor friend of mine once postulated that the true rhythm in life looks more like transition-transition-transition-transition-transition than living-living-living-transition-living-living-living-living-transition. I've spent much of my life trying to find a living-living-living-transition type existence...to no avail. I have fought it and yet I think somewhere deep down inside I have always known that he was right. The harder I try to manage my life into a placid lake with merely a rare and gentle ripple, the more I find myself tossed to and fro in a sovereign sea of transition much bigger and stronger and smarter than I am.
Now, I don't mind conceding the philosophical argument or even the reality of transition-transition-transition, under one condition: my new life outlook must be accompanied by a huge, friggin can of WD40. My father used to jest that life and WD40 were inseparable…and that WD40 could cure anything. My wife and I have lived transition-transition-transition for some time now and I feel like my emotional surface has been too sticky or clingy or Velcro-y. It occurred to me that if I could get access to my soul or spirit or emotional being and spray a large can of WD40 right there on the surface where life interacts with my personhood, that living on the slippery slopes of transition-transition-transition might be less traumatic and more fun.
For example, we just moved to an apartment in downtown Santa Rosa, CA. It’s great! Really, it’s way cool, but still it’s a bit sticky or clingy or Velcro-y to move into a new place and meet new neighbors and start a new job and not accidentally pee in the kitchen in the middle of the night because the bathroom used to be where the kitchen now stands…or whatever a kitchen does. You know? I’m really thrilled, as is my wife, that we ended up here…I’ve wanted to move to NorCal for many years. And yet the waves of different and sometimes unpleasant emotions come and go, often without the courtesy of any notice whatsoever. What’s up with that?
So, as we venture into our latest transition, I have but one plan…a daring, bold maneuver that must, that will prevail. I’m heading to Costco to purchase the 48-pack of WD40. Of course, I will also purchase the especially tiny straw (make that 3000 especially tiny straws) specifically designed to allow the miraculous liquid to seep deep down into my emotional makeup. If that doesn’t work (perish the thought) I may need to replace the kitchen trash can with a fancy new toilet.
Obviously, I can’t leave you with that less-than-pleasant picture and I’m running out of time, so let me throw out one last question: could trust and faith be the WD40 for our spirit or emotions...what about relationships...or humor? Wow, that really needed a better segue, didn’t it?
Valentine's the Gusto Way
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