Something I've been tossing about for a couple of days now is about places. Where we belong, who we are, how we find those spots that are ours.
Naturally, this was sparked by a twitter debate, yet again. A young English chap - in fact, the very same that spawned my last diatribe - has made me think. He is quite a confident person, which is all well and good. I find myself shockingly less so. Perhaps it's a difference in personalities - he is obviously an extrovert, eager to meet new people. I'm very much the opposite in most areas of my life.
I do enjoy meeting new people, but only in quiet, controlled sorts of ways. I like substance in my conversation, the chance to really dig down and get to someone in more than a superficial way (which is not to say he doesn't also look for that; I really wouldn't know). I guess it's odd that an introvert like me has a blog, participates actively on message boards and revels in over-sharing the most banal thoughts and events on twitter.
And yet . . . I don't mind. Probably because I still have trouble believing that these things perhaps move me out of my shadowy corner and thrust me on stage. I never was a very good actress, preferring stage management and direction to the spotlight. If nothing else - it was often itchy and hot under those lights. The background was cool and infinitely more comfortable.
I do wonder though, how he's found such confidence, such assurance about himself and who he is and where he's going. On a daily basis, I look at myself in the mirror with something approaching disbelief. I haven't any idea what I'm doing much of the time, certainly none about where I'm going - not while the only firm direction I've had is contained in a wood box on my mantle and nothing has come forth to replace it.
I said awhile back that I wondered about big things versus little things. That I used to feel destined for great things and am realizing that perhaps the little things are the great ones.
I still don't know where I'm going. My career is one that pays bills, it's not one that makes my heart beat faster or really fills me with pleasure because I enjoy it. I'm quite grateful for it - especially after today. I think I'm decent at it, which is fine. But it's not a great thing. It's a paycheck. That's fine.
My marriage is a good thing. One of the best things of my life, I think. That was one thing I knew and continue to know - the boat, I imagine fancifully, that keeps me out of the depths of the sea.
My friendships - I can only be humbled and grateful for you wonderful people. I do not deserve you.
But you know, there is more. There is more I do and more to me. And as of today, I have a new direction and something that does fulfill me and makes me so very happy.
You can read a bit about it here.
One thing I can do is sit with those who are newly grieving, and let them grieve. I can talk with those who need to converse as badly as I did and give them the understanding I received. I can be an ear, and I can hopefully comfort and soothe provoke and help. I can give back a small portion of what I've been given.
And I believe with all my heart that if this is the best of my life, it will be something great.