Life, actually…

.

NEXT UP! DANCING AROUND THOSE UNSOLICITED OPINIONS

.

“Duck!” is what I want to shout whenever somebody gets close to my face and begins to recite THAT STORY THEY KEEP TELLING.

.

“Duck!” is my knee-jerk reaction when THAT STORY THEY KEEP TELLING begins to roll out and fill all available space.

.

“Stop and really listen!” is my contrarian shout that immediately follows the duck! volley.

.

Yes, you guessed it—my life overfloweth with characters like myself, people who have deeply-felt opinions—opinions with no place to go. Having no place to go with these long-held rants, many THAT STORY THEY KEEP TELLING folks pick on me. I am easy pickings.

.

After all, I am a dutiful prisoner of my own workplace, a stalwart of my family, a casual victim of wherever I am at the moment.

.

Getting trapped and encapsulated by one of these THAT STORY THEY KEEP TELLING people is something I must endure, something I am slowly beginning to appreciate.

.

Being mostly an internal and private person guarantees that my basic instinct is to avoid at all cost being cornered by the rants and rages of strangers.

.

But here in this lovely Down South village I am learning to stop and listen, pause and ponder, observe and ruminate…whenever a THAT STORY denizen needs to mouth off and show off and plead for attention.

.

I am actually getting better at listening.

.

Are you also a deflector of THAT STORY people? Maybe you know what I’m talking about.

.

My entire life has been spent defending my small solitude of a mind, defending it against encroachment by those who would like to move in and take up space. Perhaps I have been unfair to many of these rant-tellers. Maybe not all of them want to storm my defenses and take over…maybe some of them simply wish to vent, then move on.

.

As I learn to listen more, I make fewer wisecracks—wisecracks being my main weapon against alien or forbidden ideas that these ranters wish to implant. Wisecracks have protected me from many attacks by bullies and shamers and predators and needier-than-thou warriors.

.

But wisecracks also can keep me so isolated that I miss the special gifts that some folks unknowingly offer. When I stop and examine what’s really happening during one of these storytelling episodes, I find that there is a kind of wisdom and fellow-human-being confidentiality that can be helpful or comforting.

.

When I stop and lay down my armor and my weapons—in the form of defensiveness or resistance or smart-aleck remarks or fake emergencies—I can actually appreciate what is going on.

.

Of course, the ranters have their own limitations. Some are beyond help, having long ago given up being taken seriously. Some have stopped looking for cues as to whether they are being heard.

.

But now and then, now and then, one of those THAT STORY THEY KEEP TELLING people will pause and, taking my signal, take a deep breath at the same time I am taking a deep breath. Now and then, now and then, I and thou will leap from the swirling habits we’ve established…and actually hear each other.

.

When that leap of recognition occurs, even if temporary, great understanding and humanity can rear themselves and actual real-life conversation can commence.

.

This is something to strive for. I need this kind of progress now and then.

.

I need to disarm. I need to peek into the abyss. Just to see whether a really good day is about to jump out and happy-fy me despite myself

.

© Jim Reed 2023 A.D.

.