I just finished viewing a photo slide show via text message. My love spent a weekend with the boys in a remote location, and he excitedly shared with me his photos of the excursion. They are a lovely collection of sunsets, mountain vistas, and colorful houses that look ramshackle by any American definition.
You already know how much I love the way he catalogs his life through photos. One photo, in particular, caught my attention. It's the side of a house and its makeshift work table. There's a mop leaned against the house, a giant washtub on the table, buckets on the ground, and another tool covered by some clothing. This is the kind of shot that self-respecting Americans--especially those in gated communities--would be ashamed to have sitting outside their homes.
Homeowners associations across the country are currently bemoaning the state of a world that allows such a scene to be visible by others. I'm sure a well-meaning retiree is currently writing a cease and desist letter for the owner.
What I love about that photo is what I love about his country...for that matter, just about every country I've visited. In Spain, the streets were lined with balconies sporting the latest laundry. In Peru, dogs openly played with sticks in the street. I've listened to emotional arguments seep through windows in the wee hours of the morning. I've watched lovers of all ages cling to each other in the glow of the sunset and sunrise. I've even shared a park bench with strangers and silently watched the world go by.
This is life, folks.
For me, the contrast is a bit extreme. I feel guilty when I see that my filing system is stacking my documents as neatly as possible on the kitchen counter. I wish I could find a place to store my coffee maker when it's not in use. I cringe at the dirt that piles on my floor daily. I'm embarrassed by the fact that my dish soap rests on the edge of the sink and my toilet paper rarely ever makes in on the wall holder. In the recesses of my mind, I think I'm supposed to have a model house with everything in its place.
I see the same scenario at work in my life. I'm constantly caught between the desire to be known completely and the need to control my image. But life is messy, and when I sit quietly I realize that one of my strengths as a person IS my ability to let people see me as I am--to open up and bear all the neuroticism, frustration, ugliness, kindness, and wonder that is me.
And that is me. I still haven't figured out how to let go of my need for perfection and to be all things to all people. I keep hoping that someone along the way to old age, I will drop these shackles. I'm getting there one day at a time. I don't need to be a model human living in a model home. It's the reality of the day to day that releases us, and the more we share, the more we realize how much we all have in common.
I think the answer to world peace might lie in our ability to accept that we all have dirty mops and toilet plungers and sorts of other "imperfections" sitting around. And it's okay to let the world see them.
You already know how much I love the way he catalogs his life through photos. One photo, in particular, caught my attention. It's the side of a house and its makeshift work table. There's a mop leaned against the house, a giant washtub on the table, buckets on the ground, and another tool covered by some clothing. This is the kind of shot that self-respecting Americans--especially those in gated communities--would be ashamed to have sitting outside their homes.
Homeowners associations across the country are currently bemoaning the state of a world that allows such a scene to be visible by others. I'm sure a well-meaning retiree is currently writing a cease and desist letter for the owner.
What I love about that photo is what I love about his country...for that matter, just about every country I've visited. In Spain, the streets were lined with balconies sporting the latest laundry. In Peru, dogs openly played with sticks in the street. I've listened to emotional arguments seep through windows in the wee hours of the morning. I've watched lovers of all ages cling to each other in the glow of the sunset and sunrise. I've even shared a park bench with strangers and silently watched the world go by.
This is life, folks.
For me, the contrast is a bit extreme. I feel guilty when I see that my filing system is stacking my documents as neatly as possible on the kitchen counter. I wish I could find a place to store my coffee maker when it's not in use. I cringe at the dirt that piles on my floor daily. I'm embarrassed by the fact that my dish soap rests on the edge of the sink and my toilet paper rarely ever makes in on the wall holder. In the recesses of my mind, I think I'm supposed to have a model house with everything in its place.
I see the same scenario at work in my life. I'm constantly caught between the desire to be known completely and the need to control my image. But life is messy, and when I sit quietly I realize that one of my strengths as a person IS my ability to let people see me as I am--to open up and bear all the neuroticism, frustration, ugliness, kindness, and wonder that is me.
And that is me. I still haven't figured out how to let go of my need for perfection and to be all things to all people. I keep hoping that someone along the way to old age, I will drop these shackles. I'm getting there one day at a time. I don't need to be a model human living in a model home. It's the reality of the day to day that releases us, and the more we share, the more we realize how much we all have in common.
I think the answer to world peace might lie in our ability to accept that we all have dirty mops and toilet plungers and sorts of other "imperfections" sitting around. And it's okay to let the world see them.
Comments
Pondering this! Thanks!