Am I really a Dinosaur?

(This was a bit stream of consciousness and therefore a tad rambly, apologies for this!)

dinosaur bones

I was late to the blogging game, I fully admit. By the time I got here the days of high profile blogging were already long gone. Meaning that today, in order to get “seen”, you have to exceedingly special or, in some cases, brave, in order to be heard above the crowd. Is it OK to be average? Is that allowed?

I once worked for a woman who constantly reminded me that it was alright to be ordinary. In her view, to underachieve was disrespectful to one’s self, while overreaching expectations could be disrespectful to one’s colleagues. This was difficult for a here-to-fore overachiever to wrap her head around. Wasn’t perfection always the goal? Since when was mediocre ever OK?

While I still don’t fully agree with this “tall-poppy”-ish, zero-sum type stance, I will concede that age has taught me a few things about perfectionism and persistence. Mainly that they are relative to your particular situation, and a few other things:

  1. Perfection does not exist. Full Stop.
  2. Comparison is everyone’s Achilles Heel. Even if it’s comparison with yourself in a different time span.
  3. Persistence will be exhausting. Expect it.
  4. Persistence will (almost) always pay off.
  5. Being “average” but persistent, will usually yield better results than being “perfect” but lethargic.

So here I am, hanging on. In a sea of bloggers, all vying for our voices to be heard. Me, without any videos or fancy fonts. Thinking average thoughts and writing about mediocre things. An average middle aged woman with an average day job and an average family.

And I am SO grateful for all of these things (including my lovely readers)!

Am I really a dinosaur (i.e. old and irrelevant)? Probably, but I am learning to see these wrinkles as the reward for a life of effort.

Thanks for listening, stay cozy!

Late Summer Harvest

Recently, my family and I went on a quick trip a little south to see family and friends. We had such a wonderful time just visiting, playing in a local park, and enjoying some home cooking from my grandmother. It was an idyllic weekend in many ways and for many reasons, not the least of which was my own ability to “suspend,” if you will, my troubles for a bit (not a small feat for someone so organically neurotic). I allowed myself a little break from the anxieties of work and the world, and just enjoyed my cherished loved ones.

While we were there, we visited a farm and bought some fresh peaches, and picked various vegetables from my grandparents’ garden. I was reminded of the beauty of a late summer harvest and the bounty that benevolently cared for ground can produce. Every time I go back there, and stand amongst the vines and the leaves, I feel a little closer to the earth, terra firma, home. I feel, for a moment, like I am finally focused on what truly matters, the essentials: food, shelter, and above all, family and friends.

late summer fruit and vegetable harvest

Late summer fruit and vegetable harvest

It is always a bit of a shock to me when I realize how much of brain is normally consumed with concerns that are so artificial and have very little to do with real life. I then realize that I am quietly angry at the ten thousand things that vie for my time, attention, and money, on the most mediocre of my days. Ten thousand things that seem to stretch far and wide and yet have no real bearing nor genuine interest in my life.

I allow it to happen to me though; it’s not the fault of those nameless, faceless, and yet omniscient entities, it’s mine. I let myself become distracted and distressed by events and persons who happen to be half a world away, beyond my physical and perhaps intellectual grasp. I am NOT one who enjoys feeling powerless about situations, even if they be a million leagues afar and property (or fault) of someone else.

However, I also cannot solve all the problems or atone for all the situations that may ravage the globe. I simply am not capable of, nor would I be proficient at, as a single human being, carrying all the sorrows of the world. Mine is to do my little part, help where I can, and carry on.

It is a hard pill to swallow at times, realizing just how small and insignificant I might be.

And yet, there in my grandparents’ garden, it is a comfort to be touching the grass with my toes and devouring the sweetest of plums under one of the many apple trees, observing my young, beautiful son play in the yard. To feel the abatement of worry, and the arousal of our most basic senses seems like a tiny vacation to me. I have left my smart phone inside, ringer off, and I don’t miss it for once. I wish to recede from the world and become “smallish”, if only for a moment or so.

If restricting my world to the very simplest of pleasures for a weekend makes me happier, what does that say about the manner in which I generally run my life? What does it say about whom and what I let into it? How did I let it go this far? And how do I re-center myself and my life in what seems more real?

I’m not sure about the precise logistics yet, but I’m working on it…

late summer fruits and vegetables 2

Late summer harvest

Other than the peaches (which were from a stand), the other produce was plucked from either my grandparents’ garden, or the garden of a nearby friend, and gifted to us before our return home. They were all succulent and delicious! I hope y’all get to enjoy some of the season’s best!

Ever so much thanks to our friends and family for a lovely weekend, and a minor resurrection of my humanness.

Stay hominid, stay cozy.