We are all somewhat cracked. Whether due to casual mishandling or by brutal force. Some cracks barely noticeable, some spackled over with heavy duty band-aids. We suture with work, working-out, drown our sorrows, use crack, and add initials after our names on our business cards.
We race, we weave, we meet in staff rooms, we like each other, we can't tolerate each other, we try to be polite. We pretend, we deny, we shop only at Sunterra, we avoid big green boxes with massive parking lots.
Who the heck are we?
If we are fortunate, we have friends, and we recognize each other's cracks. Friends overlook, they share remedies, they hand you a safe band-aid when you need it. Because our cracks makes us real. As we grow, our fragility makes us gentle and aware of others.
And by the time Friday arrives, many crack-pots have crossed our path. Finally, you can eat pizza, watch a movie and crack up...together. I am grateful for TAG Meetings. Thank you T. & A. for your time, your consistency and for knowing my flaws and loving me anyway.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
The Name We Got
Many years ago, my kindergarten aged son came home one day to share the story of his new friend, Beige. He was astounded by her name, as was I. My five year old had mastered the obligatory red, blue, green and yellow. He was inquisitive by nature and delighted as cobalt, mustard and emerald entered his colourful world. But Beige? And attached to a person? This fully intrigued him!
I wonder what became of Beige, now that she is an adult. Did she scramble at 18 as fast as she could to change her name? Or did she hold fast to her uniqueness and uphold her Beige-ness? Did she camouflage herself in bright and bold, or did she stay non-descript?
In a recent volunteer experience, one question to newly english speaking participants was "what is the origin of your name; what can you tell us about why your parents chose your name"? Most told of favourite relatives they were named after, flashy movie stars (a young man who chose Ryan said "you know...Meg Ryan"!) but the one I remember most fondly is the sweet, soft-spoken girl whose name in her native language meant "the song of the summer breeze".
So whether you are a Bertha, a Brittany or a Beige - does your name dictate who you will BE? What do you think?
I wonder what became of Beige, now that she is an adult. Did she scramble at 18 as fast as she could to change her name? Or did she hold fast to her uniqueness and uphold her Beige-ness? Did she camouflage herself in bright and bold, or did she stay non-descript?
In a recent volunteer experience, one question to newly english speaking participants was "what is the origin of your name; what can you tell us about why your parents chose your name"? Most told of favourite relatives they were named after, flashy movie stars (a young man who chose Ryan said "you know...Meg Ryan"!) but the one I remember most fondly is the sweet, soft-spoken girl whose name in her native language meant "the song of the summer breeze".
So whether you are a Bertha, a Brittany or a Beige - does your name dictate who you will BE? What do you think?
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