Complaints

Ok,I take it all back. I don't want to be Sandra Bullock or Kate Winslet anymore. It appears that even they---those whose lives appear to be perfect and have everything--even their lives get down and dirty and real. Looks like the loves of their lives have gone astray---not AWOL--just astray. AWOL may have been easier, actually. Since we're into true confessions on this blog, I will go ahead and remind you that one of my underlying core beliefs (that's a belief I hold, but don't own up to) is that if you're thin and beautiful, then your life must be great. So, here, once again, Sandra and Kate have busted that myth-belief of mine right out of the water. (When am I going to finally learn not to believe everything I think? Do you have that same issue? Somebody tell me!)

I was complaining the other day about something in my life when my friend asked me, "Tell me somebody's bag of junk you would rather be pulling behind you and we'll see about making a trade with them." I thought about this person or that one. Vain and petty traits lured me along for a minute---rich, thin, better educated, more well-traveled, nicer house, thin legs. But what else could be lurking in that bag of theirs that I might not know about? What real life "junk" were they really pulling around behind them in their life's baggage/bag? Hmmmm. Maybe I would just keep my own life with my own little bag I haul around. (And again I am reminded of some other great thought: It's not the wake that drives our boat. The wake is what we leave behind.) How come I know stuff like this and still grapple so much with junk (junque if you're in denial.)

So, anyway, this morning a friend told me this: Complaints Are Signs of Something Preferred, But Not Risked. Read that last sentence again---preferred but not risked. We can each one make a list of things we would like to be different in our lives. Is that true? Are you still here with me? But, and here's the big fat spiritual question I have: What are we (you/me) willing to risk to make those changes in our lives? That really puts the ball back in our court, doesn't it? So,here's a quote from Wayne Dyer that may create a shift--if we're willing to risk it: Change the way you look at things and the things you look at will change. Why do we white-knuckle ourselves, clutching our beliefs like we will literally die if we move off square one? I mean, come on guys, is the only possible reaction to our disappointments to be irritated, impatient and angry?
I think we complain when we feel like we're entitled--so---yeah, most of the time. We complain when we feel put-upon, inconvenienced, interrupted, or when something or somebody gets in our way. We hate to wait, despise it when people are not efficient and need everybody to be in the same hurry we are. You know this is true. Stop tapping your foot, rolling your eyes, doing that cold stare thing. Yes, you may have to wait while the cashier changes the paper tape. How come we think that is going to be what kills us? Seriously.
Somewhere along the line Taylor picked up the phrase, "Stop Your Whining." (Only he pronounces it "grining"--rhymes with whining.) He probably heard it from a teacher or an aide in one of his schools and he uses it quite appropriately. Taylor is my little cattle-prod, no-whining bzzzzzztt person. He zaps me. He can sense the "Aarrgghhgg" in my voice when I get behind a slow car. "Stop your grining." Having to wait through four cars at the bank drive-thru, being put on hold or talking to a receptionist that isn't on top of things--friends not being punctual, not enough clerks at the store, poor service anywhere---all my complaints. And, here's this sweet little voice, "Stop your grining." I hate it. I hate it because I know Taylor's right. He must not be looking at things the way I am. Why is he so damn content? Aaarrrgghhh. Maybe I could change.
My little three year old friend, Ava, told me the other day when my glasses were sitting atop my head, "Put on your eyes," she said. Put your eyes on---what a thought. I don't know, though. I'm not so willing to risk---and change. But, if I did decide to see things differently, how could the same things look different? Am I willing? I think Ava was telling me something I needed to hear, "Put on my eyes." My new eyes.
And, stop my whining.
Put your eyes on..to see the same 'ole things in a whole new way.
No grining.