Putting My Bears Out on the Table

Teddy bears seem to personify whimsy.  They are benevolent creatures who just exude vulnerability and fuzzy love. They stare out at the world through those glossy, black button eyes,  revealing nothing and everything all at once……… I’m pretty sure they have souls............

I kind of have a thing for teddy bears. I’ve been known to go through periods of teddy bear acquisition, in which I add unnecessary ones to my stable the way others acquire guitars or power tools.  Some of my bears  live freely, uncaged, in my house,  and they’re pretty quiet. They don’t really run amok or anything. But  I’m sad to say that not all of them are this lucky. I have some other teddy bears who have been packed away in a plastic bin marked “TEDDY BEARS” for years. Oh, the guilt I carry around with me.  I can only imagine the conversations that are going on inside that bin.

Perhaps this borders on teddy bear abuse, but what am I supposed to do – put them all out on display? I don’t have room in my life for all those bears – all at one time. I don’t want to deal with them all, so I keep some of them in that plastic bin. What does it mean when we pack our teddy bears away in a box -- when we put away our whimsy, our vulnerability, our fuzzy love?  If I don’t put all my bears out there, am I holding back something important?

 I don’t know but I think I’ve hit upon a new favorite idiom:

“Lay all your teddy bears on the table.”

“She decided it was best to come clean and lay all of her teddy bears out on the table.”

“All right, let’s lay all our teddy bears on the table and discuss this matter.” 

“He brought no teddy bears to the table.”

“But Mary treasured up all of these teddy bears in her bin, and pondered them in her heart…..”

Oops! Sorry, I got carried away for a second there.

Be brave.

Bring it.

Bring all your teddy bears to the table.

What’s the worst that can happen?

Some bears I know...........



Bear-on-stairs

 

Navy Bear

KU Bear - someone has taken his pants

Bear-in-car

Overloved bear

How Far Would You Go For Money?

How far would you go for money?

I used to work at this really crazy place, where the morale was subterranean. To offset this, we used to do things to try to lift us up out of the dark hole of our despair. Sometimes, we would have a contest to see who could do the least amount of work in a day. If you had to answer the phone, for example, you lost a point.  I once paid our first shift production manager $5 to eat a dead cricket – and he chewed it  up and swallowed it down without blinking an eye! But he was no amateur – he also claimed to have eaten a raw chicken leg for money.

Other times, we contemplated absurd scenarios: One day, we got into a discussion about what you would be willing to do for a million dollars. Would you walk down the street completely naked if someone paid you a million dollars? Would you walk all the way down Center Street, past the fairgrounds, for $1 million? The answers surprised me. Some said yes, no problem, are you kidding me I would do it in a heartbeat. Others, like me, said um, no, not on your life or for a million dollars would I do that. I’m way too shy for that.

In retrospect, I suppose there would be several minutes of an uncomfortable situation and the payoff would be huge. So why not? Because there are some things you can’t pay me to do. In general, you can’t pay me to be coerced into doing something I would not normally do. I don’t like to give someone that kind of power. At least, that’s what I tell myself. Mostly, the choice is not so extreme, and the question is couched in terms of Real Everyday Life and might not seem like a soul-killer at the time.

Would you lose sight of your true nature in order to keep a job that allows you to make your house payments? It could happen. Would you set aside what really matters to you in order to buy food and electricity? Probably.  Would you silence your heart every day in order to obtain financial security? Well, certainly not every day…………….. Would you put your soul on hold, say, through the end of the year, with plans to revisit it when you’re not quite so busy?  What? Can you repeat the question? I was busy over here….

We kind of need money sometimes. But when you are true to yourself,  you will find a way to make the other things work.  I’m trying to focus, focus, focus on heart and soul. Always always always. That is where the truth lies.  No matter how far you go for money, it won’t ever return the favor.

The Center of Everything

Warning: this is one of those soul-baring posts that can make you feel funny when you read it. (If I can make you uncomfortable, I know I've succeeded). However, if that you’re not in the mood for that, (PLEASE! Make it stop!!) go grab some chocolate and read my post about the Country Stampede. I won’t be offended!   

There’s a book I really like called “The Center of Everything” by Laura Moriarty. Coincidentally to this post, the book is set in Kansas, and the author – Moriarty – lives in Lawrence, Kansas. But I’m not going to talk about the book. I just want to use the title for today’s blog.

I recently moved back to Kansas. It’s Where I Come From.  It’s been a bittersweet homecoming. Last week, I got my Kansas license plate.  I don’t know why, but it seemed significant. As the clerk set the plate on the counter, I actually had to bite my lip to keep the tears out of my eyes. Maybe it felt like wiping out the final outward traces of a former life as the former me. So many changes. So many goodbyes. So many rites of passage, passing by unnoticed, uncelebrated or unlamented by anyone but me. Another shining moment in my life history, to be sure. If a moment shines in the forest and nobody sees it, does it really make enough light to cut through the darkness?

At the nucleus of who I am, there is a light – it is my creative soul. It is the part of me that is not changed by external events. It is the Center of Everything. In my case, there is music that can never be silenced.  It is the constant that drives me forward, over and over, again and again, through the muck and the mire, through the rain and the fire. It’s the lifeline that carries me over the angry sea to the safety of the shore. So I grab onto it and hold on for dear life when the situation calls for it.

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