The Poppy Field

Sometimes I feel like Dorothy on a magical journey to the Emerald City; the place in which all inequities are balanced. I wake up and find myself in a strange place, surrounded by the unfamiliar. I am told to follow the yellow brick road. In this world the yellow brick road represents the path one is to follow to arrive at their ultimate goal. 

I look around and no one wishes to take the journey. The munchkins are content in their protected land and Glenda disappears into a bubble. Where does one find such a magic bubble? I’d like one. But alas, I am destined to place my feet upon the path and trudge into the unknown.

 

As I follow the bricks, the path splits and I take the best possible route according to my intuition. Granted, my intuition seems a bit off since I’ve arrived in Oz. But I continue my descent. In the most unlikely places I find allies willing to join the expedition. Sure they all have their own motivations for the cause, and that’s fine. The important thing is that I have company.

As we travel I notice we all have imperfections. We’re a band a misfits striving for a greater cause. We seem to have little in common, until adversity blinds us in the midst of a field of poppies. At that point it becomes obvious that we have the same mission. First of all, survive. Secondly, progress. It does not matter what we believe or what our short comings are. We must band together to achieve our objective. And so we endure and finally see the ethereal glow of the Emerald City. We have arrived!

Alas, we get to the gate after following the road that should have led us to our goal, and we are turned away. We do not understand. We are bewildered, angered and bitter.

In the end we all know what happens. They rally together and press on. Dorothy defeats the witch and returns home. Of course she’s told that she had the power to return home all along with the simple click of her heals. I admit. I’ve tried that. It doesn’t work. I’m just grateful no one was around to witness it. But I digress…

So we’ve all seen the movie. But, what if the tin man, the scarecrow, the lion and Dorothy turned on one another? Would they have defeated the witch? Would the tin man have received a heart, the lion courage, and the scarecrow a brain? Would Dorothy have ever made it home? I guess the moral of the story is to always press on, together, regardless of arduous trek ahead. The trick is to unite and not fall for the shortcut through the poppy field.

I think we might be stuck in the poppy field. Anyone getting sleepy?

Let Your Freak Flag Fly

A friend and I were having one of our many daily conversations. I can’t remember what we were discussing. But that’s not the point of the story. During our chat, she turned to me and said “go ahead and let your freak flag fly.” I love that…let your freak flag fly!

As the night progressed, I thought about my freak flag and it dawned on me that not only do I never fly my freak flag, I don’t even think I have a freak flag. Perhaps I used to have one back in the days before I became so consumed with responsibility. One thing is for sure, if I ever had a freak flag, it is now residing in some abandoned closet wearing two decades of dust. But that’s not the point of this story either.

So, what exactly is a freak flag? I had no clue. So, I did what anyone would do after contemplating for a whole night about his or her freak flag. I googled it. Turns out I was way off on my comprehension of a freak flag.

A freak flag is what makes you unique. Your freak flag is your self-awareness and flying it is a statement that you are putting yourself out there. You are extending your talents, gifts and persona to the world. A person must be strong and self-assured to fly his or her freak flag.

Suddenly I envisioned my friend's freak flag. Her flag is amazing! She’s strong, compassionate and fierce. She’s creative, intelligent and bold. She has no idea of her strength but I can testify that I have seen her battle Goliath face to face and triumph. She proudly displays her freak flag. She is who she is.

When she was diagnosed with cancer she shaved her head before the chemo stole her hair from her. She started wearing beautiful scarves that defined her bohemian style to perfection. You see, she embraced the transformation and she wore it boldly.

She’s an artist. She’s constantly inspired by colors, textures and designs. She has an inner drive to create. She invited me to one of her vision board workshops and through her leading I learned so much about myself that I never before recognized. The experience was truly insightful.

Thinking about my friend makes me re-evaluate my own freak flag. Do I have a freak flag? Of course I do. I recognize my strengths and my talents. I am who I am, like it or not. Now, am I confident enough to boldly fly my freak flag in front of all humanity?

Life is too short not to embrace those attributes that set us apart from the crowd. We all have different gifts. We have various shades of deviance. We are all extraordinary in some way. Many of you may already have your freak flag hoisted high. But for those of us who are a little less valiant, let us fearlessly proclaim our distinctions and let our freak flags soar.

The Box of Chocolates Analogy

Life is like a box of chocolates…What you want is that coveted caramel but you know statistically there are only two caramels in each box of 25 chocolates. The rest are filled with maple or fruit or some other fruitcake concoction you have absolutely no interest in.

You carefully scan the box for a caramel. You note size and shape and are able to eliminate a few nuts. You are then left with about 20 possibilities. Still, the odds are stacked against you. That’s a 1 in 10 chance you will get a caramel. But hey, you’ve seen a caramel before and based on past experience you might be able to sway the odds in your direction.

Through deductive reasoning you narrow it down to about four possibilities. Statistically that’s a 50% chance. Your selections are all square or rectangle and they are evenly scattered across the box. You make an educated guess, settling on the one that has all of the outside characteristics of being caramel. You chose and hesitantly take a bite and immediately realize it’s not a caramel.

Sometimes it’s nougat, which; depending upon one’s taste, is acceptable. I like nougat. It’s not too sweet and not too bitter. Granted it’s no caramel. Sometimes it’s toffee. For me toffee is so much better than caramel. In which case I’m thinking…jackpot! 

But, sometimes it’s maple-filled. Again it depends on taste. Some people like maple. I am not one of those people. Maple filling creates an immediate gag reflex. I have no choice but to spit it out.

Of course with a box of chocolates one can try again if they happen to get the maple. This is where the analogy ends and life is not like a box of chocolates.

A Stone In My Shoe

Day in and day out there’s simply too much to do. I plan my day while I’m sleeping. Sure I’m asleep, but my mind is racing about my next day’s “to do” list. I wake up every morning with this innate catalog of marching orders. As the tasks mount, the stress rises and gradually dissolves as each one is mentally scratched off the list. That, my friends, is a good day.

But what about those days when tasks creep in and derail my effort? With every mission accomplished two more take its place. Sound familiar? I call these irritants a stone in my shoe. A stone is anything that preoccupies me from my responsibilities.

Stones are a daily occurrence at the office. They come in all forms: technology malfunctions, a small crisis or an unscheduled meeting. I’ve learned to prioritize.

On the way home, traffic is a stone because it costs me valuable time. Walking in the door, more stones await. Running out of milk is a stone. A broken dishwasher is a stone. The sudden realization that my daughter needs a hard to find object for school that she neglected to tell me about is a stone.

Stones are also little irritants. As I head out to find that remote object someone cuts me off in traffic. I get to the store, find the coveted object and realize I’ve left my debit card in my other purse. I have to return home, get my card and drive back. These are all stones.

I hate stones. Where do these pesky stones come from and how do they keep getting in my shoes?

Well, as these problems mount I’ve learned to ask myself a few questions. Will I remember this dilemma in a week, a month, a year? Will this momentary annoyance change my life or affect those I love? If I can answer with a no, it’s not a problem at all. It’s just simply a stone in my shoe.

Stones are not worth the effort. They are too numerous, impossible to avoid and too minimal to leave a scar. But I find that if I hold on to the stones they mount into piles. Piles turn into overload and overload creates an inability to deal with the stones. This can inadvertently lead to stone-heaving.

And what happens when we heave stones? Someone’s likely to get caught in the cross-fire. I’ve learned not only to keep my stones to myself, but to avoid stone-heavers. I have enough of my own stones to field someone else's.

But overall, stones don’t bother me anymore. I’ve learned to live with them. I kick off my shoe, dump it out and move forward. I try not to collect or heave the stones.

Sure, tasks still mount and so do the stones. But stones aren’t worth my energy. The quicker I dismiss a stone, the quicker it dissolves and I can return my focus to what really matters.

So here’s the point…if 99% of my problems on a given day turn out to be stones, well then, it’s still a good day.