Empty Tube of Paint

Yesterday afternoon I needed to escape from my family for awhile and engage my mind elsewhere, so I got in the car and headed for town. At the end of Mission Road an 18-wheeler truck had just stalled while pulling out. He was stuck halfway across Rt. 9 where the cars speed down the hill completely blocking the eastbound lane and most of the westbound and halfway still on Mission Road, blocking the entrance. Oh, this should be more interesting than a coffee shop so I parked my car at the edge of the church parking lot and settled in for the entertainment. I was not disappointed. As no one had arrived at the scene yet to assist, the commuters came up with a very impressive little traffic circle around the truck. It was maneuvered remarkably well, traffic kept moving, they mastered the technique & moved with a perfectly flowing rhythm, no hitches, no hesitations, no problems. It was actually cool to watch, like a ballet of sorts. I was impressed. Then Barney Fife of the State Police shows up. Never fear, authority is here. Oh boy. He immediately starts the lights flashing, deems this a danger, a crisis, an emergency and immediately begins directing traffic. The people completely lost their rhythm, they lost their confidence in their ability to make intelligent decisions and within seconds he had traffic backed up in every direction. There were several close calls, near head-on collisions & general chaos. It was no longer a pretty thing to watch, so I went back home. My mind was full of what I had just seen. I realized what a brilliant illustration of life I had just witnessed. How often do we lose our rhythm because we stop trusting our instinct. A figure of authority comes along and we are taught that they know better & we are required to listen. We surrender our life to a professional or a parent or a spouse or even a child. We stop thinking and stop listening to our own spirit & we allow them to complicate what was once simple for us. We lose our confidence. We always enjoyed dancing but now the choreographer says your steps aren't the right steps and her steps you can't do so you stop dancing. You used to sing because it made you happy but it turns out you are actually tone deaf & have no harmonizing ability, so you grow quiet. You used to feel beautiful but you aren't. Your ears are too big, your hair and eyes are the wrong color. You used to love purple but turns out you have no taste, you are tacky. So you stop hanging Christmas lights in July & you stop wearing cowboy boots & crazy socks and sequins. You stop doing the PeeWee Herman dance to the song 'Tequila' on your Pastor's breakfast bar. (okay, maybe some things need to go) You no longer want a pink house you are now familiar with words like 'taupe'. Your favorite colors are now brown & gray. Brown and gray for God's sake. All your socks and underwear are white. One day you wake up and you realize you are like an empty tube of paint. You have had all the color squished out of you. You aren't sure which direction is right anymore. You aren't sure if you are allowed to go or if it is someone else's turn. Since nothing you do or say is ever quite right you stop doing or saying anything. You used to be an animated friendly people person, never met a stranger, now you are scared to leave the house. You thought you had a good sense of humor but now you just feel stupid. You aren't happy anymore because you have allowed negative critical gloomy people to pull you down with them into their misery. Some of them may even have been dead for many years but they still have a firm grip on you. I refuse to let anyone ever have that kind of power over me again. I am NOT going to be pulled under. Now I know that just because someone is wearing the right hat and has flashing lights and the ability to be loud, it doesn't mean they know what they are doing. It doesn't mean they are better qualified. I'm not hiding anymore. I like to wear party dresses around the house. I like to make people laugh, I love to sing & dance. I have to realize that I will never make some people laugh, they will always correct me or criticize me. So I think I will just stop trying to do it their way. I am going to go back to the rhythm & color that is me. That may be unsophisticated, artless, tacky, immature or unconventional. I will let others be cynical, negative, critical and adult. I tried their way but it almost caused me a fatal disastrous crash. Did someone say something? I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over my singing.

Thanks Clyde-Pierre for remembering I have color.

"[He] did not think of her as being born or hatched or conceived in any way. [She] came ready-made from the Play-Doh Fun Factory of life."
Pushing Daisies