Gravity

Homework: Do any or all, or be inspired. (If your real life is too real right now, be your own private tutor and do an assignment in your head.)

~Search through the drawer in your heart. Are there memories that shaped your self image? Write about a time when your feelings were hurt. Why do you think you still remember the incident? How does that help you understand yourself better?

~Describe yourself from a friend's point of view. Does she know the real you? Do you want her to?

~As a trusted mentor, write a letter advising yourself what to do about a current situation in your life. Prompt: "Dear Friend, I know you're worried about ____. Knowing you like I do, I'm sure you feel____, but I trust your instincts. You seem so____."

My homework assignment yesterday was to write about an experience that shaped me into the person I am today. That was so easy! I immediately sat down and wrote a post about a really traumatic moment in my life when I was 15. It was a fabulous bit of writing, in all modesty, one which even made me shed a tear as I wrote it. I waited to publish it so I could rework a few things, listened to sad music, cried a bit more--and then slapped myself in disgust.

Of all the things I've experienced in my life, the thousands upon thousands of happy moments, why would I go right to something sad and believe that it shaped me more than the good things? So stupid and self-indulgent. Like that idiotic Janis Ian song, "At 17". I hate that song! And I can't stand being around people who are always dwelling on past failures and tragedy. I feel sorry for them, not because of what they've experienced (though I do actually feel sorry for that), but because they got stuck there in their heads. Why would I want to go there and wallow in it? Do I have sad stories? You bet I do--some that would leave you speechless. Do you have sad stories? Some that would make me grateful that I only had my little traumas to deal with. But dwelling on those things just pulls us into their gravity, sucking the very life out of us until there is nothing but despair and hopelessness.

I consciously choose not to go there. I've got lots to be happy about, and in spite of the occasional blip over the years, I've had a remarkably happy life. Those little moments that are almost a blur because there are so very many of them, yet with enough impact that they have left smile lines on my face.

So I got out of bed this morning, threw on my walking clothes, popped in my ear buds and listened to The New Radicals, who never fail to put things into perspective for me. Then I deleted my old post and wrote this instead. I feel much better.