Sometimes when I close my eyes, just for a second, I see a person in my mind. There is no predicting who they are, why their image is in my mind, or how it got there, but nevertheless it is there. Details, outfit, and facial expression instantly appear before my closed eyes and are a memory as soon as I open them again.
Its always been this way. But just yesterday I had the novel idea of paying attention to these folks. I started by drawing a couple thinking if nothing else, if I kept at it, I'd have a whole village of characters to use in books. Echo was pretty enthralled, wondering who they heck these people were and why they were wearing those particular clothes. I certainly couldn't answer her.
But now I have these mind creatures in my life, strewn across the kitchen counter, tucked under the computer, and I wonder if there is something else I could get from them in the immediate. So I grabbed the most recent lady...
To me she's saying:
What? I'm doing the best I can here. I haven't exactly been dealt the best hand so forgive me if I'm a bit short-tempered.
So that's her message. Now, to get Rob Brezny about it, to step waaay out on a looney-bird limb, I ask myself how am I defensive? How do I excuse my behavior because of circumstances? Or, since you are reading this it could be a message for you as well. How are you defensive?
I don't feel like the lady in my mind, when I see her I do not recognize myself, but if I am honest I can detect shared qualities. I defend myself against an imaginary and always critical jury daily. Every action I make is defended, at least subconsciously. If I see mess in the house I tally up the reasons why that is justified (We have young children. We are in the middle of unpacking. I just swept yesterday. The dog is a shedder.). If I snap at the kids I soothe myself with intellectual defense (They keep doing that thing even though I've asked them not to. They just keep screaming. I already answered that question twenty times.)
But what I see now is that every time I address the jury and prepare my defense, I am excusing myself. Not only from my actions, but from personal choice. I excuse myself from my life.
What if there were no excuses? What if no matter what hand we were dealt we still had to do our best, still had to treat our children well, still were accountable for our choices?
Maybe my mind collects images throughout the day, compiles them into one, and when I close my eyes I see that compilation flitter across my mind as a figure. That seems plausible. I'm sure a scientist would have a rational explanation for the people I see in my mind. But there are plenty of other folks that read futures in tea leaves, that gather a week's worth of advice by consulting the stars. So on the off chance that this scowly lady in bare feet can provide usable information, I thought I'd give her a moment of my time and see what I could glean.
There is no excuse. My life is what I make of it. My choices are my own.
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