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LJI s11 wk0 Introduction
Sep. 19th, 2019 08:06 pmI always learn something about a person when I attend their funeral. Most people do, I think, unless they're the immediate family. And I usually say or think that exact statement too. I thought it at the thanksgiving service I attended this morning.
And eulogies are interesting things. How do you sum up a whole person and the (long?) life they've lived, in less than ten minutes? You need to sift the language, find the few words that are the most representative, discard the fillers. Same with introductions.
Sometimes there is an anecdote that can be called upon to illustrate a person from the life that they themselves lived. I have one filed away for my Dad, for when the time comes (which I hope will not be for decades yet, of course). I don't have one for my mother; her life is not anecdotal but instead a consistency exposed over many smaller moments, and lately, when I was thinking about who she is as a whole entity, separate from our relationship and my feelings for her, I ended up eulogising her in my mind (sorry, Mam!).
So there is a single word that comes to mind to describe her. And realistically, there is also the one word that floats to over the others to describe myself. Not a word I like, particularly, but it's accurate and fairly useful.
misunderstood.
I once heard a beautiful analogy that well illustrates my point. It said, some people are dandelions. They bloom and flourish easily, in nearly every situation in which they find themselves, even in wastelands. Other people are orchids. They need a lot of tending-to, and outside of their correct environment they easily wither, easily corrode. However in their correct environment, with enough tender attention, they will flourish beautifully, and then offer something that perhaps a dandelion does not.
And, ladies and gentlemen, Daisy Sparrow is a an orchid! *jazz hands*
When she flourishes, she will love you more tenderly, more wholeheartedly, more passionately, than you have ever been loved before. She will fight your battles and guard your back; she will praise your persistence in areas you didn't even think anyone else had noticed; she will flatly refuse to let you give up on yourself, because she isn't going to give up on you either; and with her head on your shoulder, and your hand in hers, she will say, as often as is needed, "you are not alone. I am right here."
But she'll be at best semi-punctual; get bored before she ever finishes a project, and leave the debris behind her; starve the plants and overfeed the cat or vice versa; never fold the laundry; hardly ever make the bed; eat the treat you were saving for yourself (because it honestly doesn't occur to her that you'd only buy the one, so she'll just think that you've already had yours); and sort of just fail to notice whenever it's time to do the dishes. Fighting for you easily turns to fighting against you, if you won't show her your real heart and emotions, and she has little-to-no patience for propriety for propriety's sake, or the "established" way of doing things. All the things that the dandelion-people call "living in the real world". She's bad at making decisions, and worse at ceding control. She needs a lot of tending-to.
And as you may have guessed, Daisy Sparrow lives in a dandelion-field, where she doesn't very often get it. A lot of time it's easier to just say nothing, let the world go on by, let the dandelions think I'm a dandelion too, if it's easier. Easier than admitting I'm not and face their barrage of attempts to make me so. Well, until they then send another barrage ofenquiriesinquisitions into why I'm "so difficult to talk to", and it corrodes my soul. le sigh.
And if I do ((ACCIDENTALLY!!!!)) end up breaking the latest Idol rule, and they need to start eulogising about me, I think the main words that will float to the top from their perspectives would be "headstrong", "self-centred" or maybe even "insolent". There's some truth to some of those. I can certainly see why they'd say it. I just wish that maybe they'd see enough to maybe also say "kind"?
And eulogies are interesting things. How do you sum up a whole person and the (long?) life they've lived, in less than ten minutes? You need to sift the language, find the few words that are the most representative, discard the fillers. Same with introductions.
Sometimes there is an anecdote that can be called upon to illustrate a person from the life that they themselves lived. I have one filed away for my Dad, for when the time comes (which I hope will not be for decades yet, of course). I don't have one for my mother; her life is not anecdotal but instead a consistency exposed over many smaller moments, and lately, when I was thinking about who she is as a whole entity, separate from our relationship and my feelings for her, I ended up eulogising her in my mind (sorry, Mam!).
So there is a single word that comes to mind to describe her. And realistically, there is also the one word that floats to over the others to describe myself. Not a word I like, particularly, but it's accurate and fairly useful.
misunderstood.
I once heard a beautiful analogy that well illustrates my point. It said, some people are dandelions. They bloom and flourish easily, in nearly every situation in which they find themselves, even in wastelands. Other people are orchids. They need a lot of tending-to, and outside of their correct environment they easily wither, easily corrode. However in their correct environment, with enough tender attention, they will flourish beautifully, and then offer something that perhaps a dandelion does not.
And, ladies and gentlemen, Daisy Sparrow is a an orchid! *jazz hands*
When she flourishes, she will love you more tenderly, more wholeheartedly, more passionately, than you have ever been loved before. She will fight your battles and guard your back; she will praise your persistence in areas you didn't even think anyone else had noticed; she will flatly refuse to let you give up on yourself, because she isn't going to give up on you either; and with her head on your shoulder, and your hand in hers, she will say, as often as is needed, "you are not alone. I am right here."
But she'll be at best semi-punctual; get bored before she ever finishes a project, and leave the debris behind her; starve the plants and overfeed the cat or vice versa; never fold the laundry; hardly ever make the bed; eat the treat you were saving for yourself (because it honestly doesn't occur to her that you'd only buy the one, so she'll just think that you've already had yours); and sort of just fail to notice whenever it's time to do the dishes. Fighting for you easily turns to fighting against you, if you won't show her your real heart and emotions, and she has little-to-no patience for propriety for propriety's sake, or the "established" way of doing things. All the things that the dandelion-people call "living in the real world". She's bad at making decisions, and worse at ceding control. She needs a lot of tending-to.
And as you may have guessed, Daisy Sparrow lives in a dandelion-field, where she doesn't very often get it. A lot of time it's easier to just say nothing, let the world go on by, let the dandelions think I'm a dandelion too, if it's easier. Easier than admitting I'm not and face their barrage of attempts to make me so. Well, until they then send another barrage of
And if I do ((ACCIDENTALLY!!!!)) end up breaking the latest Idol rule, and they need to start eulogising about me, I think the main words that will float to the top from their perspectives would be "headstrong", "self-centred" or maybe even "insolent". There's some truth to some of those. I can certainly see why they'd say it. I just wish that maybe they'd see enough to maybe also say "kind"?
