But somewhere, some people, need to find there's...
The ever elusive sensitivity chip.
What ever happened to the age of sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me? I used to be like that, but now (for the most part) I still am, yet the people that mean the most to me don't see that what they say have a bigger impact on my life, than if someone who isn't high on my friendship totem pole, but somehow those very loved ones can completely miss the mark. You can't just ex nay being a friend... or can you... and did I just missed that memo???
I used to be a lot of things, but with growing up came hesitation... regard... a filter (yes I have one... it's a small one, but that seems to be getting better over time, therefore less of a "put em up, put em up" attitude)... and even fear. Where did all the fun go?
Why do we not be friends first before anything else.... co-workers, employees, spouse, dog owner... the world would be a much better place and also kinder...
I remember once growning up, a specific instance that has been stamp on my brain leaving the mark of the feeling of both fun and fear and how it was the most enthralling feeling I have ever had. We spent our summers at my grandparents' farm in Missouri... riding horses, playing with the sheep, mowing the lawn with the riding lawn mower, and many maaaaaany adventures. It was Amish country. We had one time where we had a race... on our horses naturally. I, being the youngest, had the old pony Brownie. Everyone else had the advantage as the had saddles and "real" horses. We had to full fledged gallop across a field, around the house, into a clearing after some trees, straight to the barn. Well, me, bareback, with only a lead rope as my reins, knotted around to the other side of the halter, surrounded by my two sisters, and an Amish family of 2 girls and 2 boys, all on huge draft horses and 2 quarter horses... needless to say, was terrified....
the 3, 2, 1 happened...
And all I remember was the gun shot in the air, and the wind in my hair.... Brownie and I were the first back to the barn... That old girl seemed to know that if we just get to the barn she could get back into the pasture and back to right where she wanted to be, grazing and bossing the donkey around the pasture.
I held on for dear life, but smiled the whole way.
The mixture of fun, and fear, and living life with the sticks and stones... that was living.
That is now my search to find my way back home.
I think that's where some people I know can find that sensitivity chip...home... maybe they never felt the wind in their hair, maybe living a life of putting others down who are in the search for that, is their very own way of the fear/fun, and possibly my attempt and search for something I already had and know I can have again is a blessing and their curse. I get that fun/fear every time I get on stage.
Maybe I'm one of the lucky ones who can still get the youthful fear/fun.
Maybe Macy's has the sensitivity chip for some... I'll let ya know.
In the mean time, here's a picture my grandfather took when we retired old trusty Brownie for me to ride a "real horse", but I never will forget or be more thankful for the lil pony that could (and did). For her drive to get to where she wanted, against ALL odds, and everyone pointing and laughing at her and I, and our small victory that beautiful day in the summer is my own example I am going to follow to not listen to even my most beloved critics...
Me on Daisy (the "real horse")
Trusty Brownie Girl
Brownie and my sisters
My Paw Paw and Brownie
Paw Paw took these with the wind in my hair... he said it was one of his favorite things to see.