Imperfectly Reasoned

Is my life boring? In a word - yes. However, it is my only life. Every time there is some excitement in it, it gets to be almost too big for me to handle. Therefore I choose boring and safe and predictable.

Except that life is never predictable. I can try to control all that happens around me and make life conform to my way of thinking. I do try. But as Yoda, that wonderful philosopher says, "Do or do not, there is no try." So I do not. I cannot, even when - or especially when - I most want to. [English purists - I know I should not end a sentence with a preposition - but I wanted to.]

When given the choice, I choose the safe and predictable. And yet I have two seemingly fearless sons. I didn't teach by example. I have no idea how they learned. I am proud of them beyond measure. Their choices, while both diametrically different, are so very risky from my viewpoint. That flying by the seat of one's pants lifestyle - verbing oneself through life - seems fraught with danger to me. Going. Doing. Being. Having. Getting. Giving. I prefer a passive live. Reading. Listening.

And then ...

I see that even in a passive mode I can only live by verbs. I watch the going and doing and being and think that if I were less fearfull that I, too, could go and do and be. It is so chilling to think that I am master of my fate. I am captain of my ship and I keep my ship in port or very close to the shore. If it were up to me, Columbus would never have set sail across the vast and uncharted seas. And I know the folly or idiocy of that choice.

Is this a function of motherhood? Protect life because it is so difficult to create. Is this a function of age? I'm too old to behave that way [whatever that way may be]. Is it simply a function of fear? Admittedly this is probably the most accurate cause.

So how does one go from wimpy, scared, and safe to courageous and risky? I suppose one chooses to take the next step. Whatever that step is. However small it is. The risk of not taking the step begins to outweigh the risk involved in taking the first step. It is the first step that is the riskiest. Each time I move farther out to sea - farther away from the safe shores of my life - I somehow survive. Survival is necessary, but the growth that comes in the next millisecond is the true goal.

My choices are not always brave. My responses are not always based on my own best interest. I sometimes retreat into the safeness that I crave. Okay - I often retreat. But is it safe?

My dreams are minimal to non-existent. This is because to dream, to hope, to look away from the safety of the past, is so risky.

My reasons for choosing safety don't seem so perfect.