You and I are individuals. We may be similar in some ways; we may be from the same generation, country or gender. Maybe we have some commonality in the events of our lives; some childhood experience we have shared. Maybe we even share DNA links, some disorder of “Nature or Nurture”.
Even so, we have so many things about us that make us different. This difference can be a simple as two sides of the same story. Different perspectives of a single event can produce very different outcomes. It is often long after the moment of sharing, that we have some understanding of a past event that we participated in. It could be a war, a battle, a tank, a foxhole. I did not have to be there, but when you told me about it, you gave me your perspective.
I took that in and processed it with everything I knew; a time I never thought about. You made me think about my own life differently. I began to see how I affected others, what I was to someone in a way I was not aware of. I see my past, as well as my future, in ways I did not think of before.
I shifted in my understandings of all things, because of this one thing you shared with me. How often did we share? How important was that time? So often it’s too late by the time we understand it.
That may be why we seem out of synch in our rhythm. We are so un-alike, it is a wonder we are even connected. Our whole reason for being is different; our very definitions of “purpose” ill-matched. Grandpa could not have a conversation with me that did not come down to “Make sure you have enough money to take care of your family.” “Money and family is what’s most important!” is what I heard. There are very few people who loved me more.
I tried his way, and the harder I tried, the more my health deteriorated. No wonder, every time we danced, he counted the measures out loud. We were rarely in time with the music, but we graced our way around the dance floor, with a jolly step here and there. There was always more to it than met the eye. Memories made with intent and purpose.
Thoughts directed in specific ways to elicit specific benefits. It did not matter if the conformed to the specific standard. It does not matter if we conform to the pre-determined standard. We do not need it be of the status que. It’s ok to be different.
It’s what you do with that difference that counts. I do not understand why my life moved along certain roads. Even when I attempted to conform, something went horribly awry. When I use what I have to do for whatever my priorities are, things seem to flow. We each have our own strengths and weaknesses.
I am an observer. I see what I can of what I know, and try to find out how to do better. Life is not a race to be run; it is a journey we must take. It is This Adventure, and we have been given an avatar, a farm, specific tools; just enough to do the job. The game is making it what kind of job you think it should be.
I determine my own world, by applying the tools I have been given. As I grow in my abilities, the game levels up with me. I see more. I can do more. I do better with more, as I accept my part of the balance.
You and I are different. We may seem to sit at the same side of the scale on some level, different when we look closer. Our opposites don’t balance out quite evenly. Relationships are rarely 50/50. Sometimes they are more like 110/0. There are foods that you like, that I cannot stomach. I wish I could eat oatmeal. It looks warm and inviting.
But it makes me physically ill, because my childhood experience is different. We are different. We have different perspectives, and it’s ok. The way we balance out life is different, and that’s ok too.
We each have our own ratios that balance out life well. We fit life like a mathematical puzzle, that makes all this keep spinning. You priorities and my priorities do not have to make a pattern that fits like bookends. Our ratios of life should be different; out experiences are different. We do not have to agree with a different in order to respect that difference.
Once we concede that different ratios; different ways of life, are permissible, we give ourselves permission to accept what is unique within. My grandpa and I are very different, but in some ways we are very much alike. We were both observers.
This is why I know that somewhere his is watching over me. He reads what I write, and is proud that I am not like him. He had to overcome significant difficulties to find a ratio that was acceptable to him. He watched as the rest of us straggled around him, and he made it a point to show me what I may have otherwise missed. He taught me more than he knew.
Just as you do. And I do.