Okay, I was raised Catholic, went to parochial school, so I know the drill: “Bless me, Technologies, for I found the stats page on this site yesterday.” I did a History major in college, as well as one in English, so I do have a wee bit of understanding about stats. Know they can be made to say whatever the prevailing bias of the stats. maker has in mind. Even understand, on some level, what an a priori definition can be. All that aside, I went from a single viewer to viewers in the double digits yesterday. All because I used (some would say dropped), a particular name/s.
The name/s were important to the story I was telling. They set up the scene in which I was fast becoming a couch potato with a TV obsession. For a few uninhibited moments yesterday, it gave me the very fresh feeling of a young teen-ager involved in her first popularity contest, blushes and all. But then, my ever present observer stepped in and whispered in my ear, “Okay, take a good look and understand what happened here.” A cold water shower and a light slap to the cheek usually wakes up any of us dreamers, even in mid-snore. I swiftly apologized to my observer, and to the young teen-ager for leading her down the garden path to corruption. But, secretly, it still felt good.
Curiosity is an extremely good energy force. It can compel us out of the place, state we are in, and get us moving toward something all together different. So, my heartfelt thanks to all of you curiosity seekers. Sorry, if you were disappointed, but you also provided me with another opportunity to discuss one more important element enhanced by regular writing. You got it, curiosity.
In attempting to put down ones thoughts, one is forced to find a language that expands to express those thoughts into some form of clarity. That, in turn, also creates that persistent observer I keep mentioning. He doesn’t just make comments, he/she also asks questions, sometimes very pointed questions, makes acerbic statements, as well as using a great deal of humor in all of that. She will often focus my attention on points of interest, prompting even more curiosity and closer inspection. That not only loops back to more of the same, but also has a tendency to bookmark it in my memory, making constantly new connective points for synchronistic adventures.
“Curiosity killed the cat, but she came back because she has nine lives.” I’ve had, and lived, a number of different lives: Housewife, Mother, College Student, Divorcee, Single Parent, Published Poetry and Prose Writer, Bookstore Manager, Editor, Publisher, and Freelance Writing Instructor, to name a few. Many of those lives were based in nothing more than curiosity at their beginnings. How many lives have you lived? Which was your favorite, and which one were you most glad to walk away from? Are there others you would like to try and what steps would you need to take to make them more than a wispy cloud somewhere far out on the horizon? Are you curious enough to write about it?
All of which brings me back to that name. I’d apologize, but I need to drop it again. Not for the stats (I know that’s just a momentary thing), but in the hopes that its owner will somehow find this particular space and come to know how really grateful I am, that he all unknowingly saved me from the life of a Tubular Root Plant, and set me back on my Journey accompanied by music, the best friend I have ever known, lots of periodic resting places like this one, and enough curiosity to continue. Gratitude doesn’t have much value except to its giver, unless the name of its receiver is also apparent. Thank you, David Cook, and best of wishes on your own journey.