I am a champion on those who have no voice--after all I've got more voice than most humans on this planet-- it's the Greek in me.
I will defend, advocate, stand up for, shake down, and even turn the other cheek while letting my feelings be made known. I am an advocate for children, the homeless, and those who would rather remain silent. One of the traits I admire most about Mountain Man is his ability to get fired up, then let it all go into the universe never to trouble him again. You'd think he'd be more like William Wallace and all those kilt wearing, fight to the death Scotsmen of whence he comes, but no, he is peaceable to the soul. He is what I consider "Christlike."
I, on the other hand, fit Christ's likeness in only one way--remember when he cleared out the temple and got all riled up about the money changers? That's me. I'm outraged when those who have no voice get trampled on. In the words of Jewel, "Where there's a man who has no voice, there will I go singing."
I can't help myself. World affairs make me passionate and the passion moves me to action. What if I channel my inner Zen so much that I am moved to look at a problem and say, "That's interesting..." then merrily make my way down the road and don't give the issue a second thought? What if by choosing to let things go I leave behind the gift that makes me, well, me?
I teach all the time that each of us were given personality traits, talents and uniqueness for a reason. None of us are supposed to be the same. In the great cosmic scope of things the Universe delights in great variety, in all its forms, and in the words of the Dalai Lama, "People take different roads seeking fulfillment and happiness. Just because they're not on your road doesn't mean they've gotten lost." There are as many roads to being human as there are humans.
I live in the smallest town in all of America. At least that is the way it feels to me. It is the smallest place I've ever lived and there are some wonderful things about living here--in many ways I adore it. On the other hand, I find myself constantly surprised by the--shall we call it "familial"--(like an all knowing Aunt would speak to a niece) ways that people speak about, and to, one another. Maybe the size of the town makes me more aware of it, but I believe there are small minds just about everywhere.
And by small minded, I mean those who are just plain mean. So if you're reading this, and you live in this small town, and you are wondering if I'm writing about you: Take care, friend. I'm not. The mean ones don't read this blog, and anyway, they're too busy sharpening their daggers of witless malice on their whetstone of low self esteem.
Besides, I could try to channel my inner Mountain Man all the live long day, but in the end, who am I kidding?
I'll never back down.
When is it time to let things go?