Itty-bitty candles

I write a little bit in my journal every day, or pretty close to every day. As a result, I think I shouldn't bother writing in this blog unless I have something really entertaining or profound to say. But I'm coming to realize the folly in that. My greatness may just be within the context of my normalcy. Normalcy is where I spend the majority of my days, and great things do happen there. I know good old Jack Kerouac thought otherwise. Said he (in Paris, no less),

‘The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.’

I am coming to terms with the fact that I am not one of those madly burning people. I've known and loved my fair share. I compulsively dated a pretty string of fabulous roman candles, some of whom I was shocked to see make it all the way to adulthood. I enjoyed their crazy demonstrativeness, their poetry, the emotional roller coasters. I loved (and still adore) my overt and brilliant friends. But I married the "still waters run deep" type guy I've been in love with since I was 12. There was no other way for me. Over the course of the last few years spent parenting and housekeeping, I've discovered that a lot of my dazzling passion is just a reflection of the shiny people I seek out. Left to my own devices, without their influence, I'm more a twinkle than an explosion. I love fall; maybe I'm more like the dappled lights coming through the trees and waving across the forest path. Beautiful, but subtle. I'm more the warm fire, good book, and cat curled up on the on the hearth.

There's some merit in that, though. Being true to yourself is always a good thing, whether that entails burning or glowing. So I'm not crazy expressive. That's a-okay. So I'm not extroverted at all. That's fine too. The problem occurs when the glowing-but-not-exploding-fireworks condition is brought on by laziness. When I'm dimmed by slothfulness, then I'm in trouble, just like all people. I think you can tell when you meet certain people whether they're being true to their best selves. Even the quiet ones are substantial and interesting. And some of the noisiest and flashiest are the least substantive and most disappointing upon further observation.

So the application of the principle is to keep from sliding into slothfulness and non-productivity. Somewhere along the line, I decided that if I was the type of person who flossed and used my treadmill regularly, then I must be attending to myself well, and if in the meantime I become less flashy, then it must be because I'm not really made that way.

And hey! I've known my fair share of wonderful quiet people too. I have to admit I feel less secure around them sometimes, but I like to admire them from afar. And getting to know the one I'm married to and the ones I've mothered is intriguing and heartwarming. Understated and subtle can be powerful, too.

This does help explain my long held fascination with British people. Interesting....