Day 214: The Way We Roar

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Yvonne told me so and it sounded like a logical statement:

‘Sometimes people are just not in a place to know that you are coming at them from a place of love.’

In this world where we have trains, planes and automobiles – the planes hover the skies, the automobiles cruise the roads and the trains, well they ride the tracks. That is what I do. I ride the track through all of its curves and bumps – hoping that it will lead me to my intended destination.

But there I was – railroad on its track – hell-bent on making it to my destination, oblivious of the road blocks in my way. Call me RAMTRAK!  Have I learned nothing from the way I used to be?

(Dammit! – I should know better.)

I know my audiences well. I should leave well enough alone. The way things are doesn’t mean they need to be the way they were.

But I don’t give up easily; I embrace the path of most resistance; I travel the road most difficult – which reminds me of one of the greatest lines of dialogue ever spoken in a movie (apologies for the digression):

‘Yeah, but look what I’ve got.’

(The measure of one’s efforts should be directly proportional to one’s rewards.)

I’ve written how I am one of these in-your-face type of people but my courage to confront stems more from affection and concern than bravery. I can be loud, boisterous, crude and confrontational – you won’t get any apologies from me for these traits, but my behavior as it is leaving the station, as I said before, is departing toward its object from a place of love.

I can’t fathom that someone will take a fall on my watch and that I won’t even give them a hand to get up from the floor.  I know what it is to fall and I know what it is to reach out and not have anyone helping you up. Nobody deserves to be in that position – ever.

And yet as self-aware as I am about this personality drawback (it certainly is not a positive trait because it tends to get me in more hot water than I choose to be in) and as logical as my wife’s clear words of advice are, I don’t think I can change.

The people who get me, understand this about me and often times depend on me for reality checks. The subtlety of tact is clearly not a prevalent gift in my bag of tricks.

The older I get, the amount of my patience has grown weaker, compared to my keen ability to plan the timing of my uninvited pounce…

After writing the prior sentence, I realize I have described myself almost like a ferocious animal when in reality I am nothing but a pussy cat with a meow…

…a meow that happens to sound like a roar.

That’s the way I am.

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