I function “best” when I’m in the Goldilocks zone. That is to say, when it’s not ‘too’ this, and it’s not ‘too’ that. When everything is going along just right in the world in a nice practiced routine. But who doesn’t function best like that, right? But take for instance a family member I once had, (who has since passed away) who had severe diabetes, and was going about her business… She never even knew she had a screw embedded in the sole of her foot. Never felt a thing. But I digress. She thought things were routine. But they were far from it.
Scientists are always looking for planets that are in Goldilocks zones, that is to say, planets in zones that are ideal for sustaining life. The Goldilocks term is theirs, not mine. Oh those scientists, and their colorful terms. That isn’t practical though. Life itself is not supposed to be practical. It has so many challenges. There’s chaos factor. There’s always chaos factor.
I heard the corniest statement ever on the morning program/disguised as news last week which is really a morning ‘entertainment’ show and it is this: When life gives you hurdles, become a hurdler. Oh boy, was that statement ever designed to become an internet meme… yes it was. I was thinking that in order to enjoy my Goldilocks zones, the challenges and obstacles and hurdles and so forth have got to be there. It would be pretty boring if they weren’t. Routine is splendid. Crisis and speedbumps wake you up.
After I’ve dealt with sheets of snow a foot high; removed it from walkways and relocated it into mounds of mountains- I feel worn but satisfied. That experience is like chaos factor intruding—-and it turns into the “conquered the elements” zone or something like that, but it can have somewhat of a payoff. Exercise, for one. The human upright carbon being is a season unto itself. Keats’ poem ‘The Human Seasons‘ comes to mind here.
I could do a schoolish summary: People are Spring when they are kids. Not too hot, not too cold. So much beauty to take in; even to take for granted. Summer is adolescent, kind of hot and lusty too. Autumn is where I’m at now I think, and of course winter in its beauty follows. yada yada….I’m not a huge fan of the Keats poem; I’m just saying it comes to mind because like earth’s seasons, there are seasons to a human life too. We call them uninteresting names like Infancy, Youth, Adolesence, Middle Age, Elder Years…I think we should name them more exuberant names that mirror earth’s seasons. Stephen King calls Youth “pony years.” I like that.
Middle Age: Harvest
Elder Years: Lore
You’d think, that because humans are gifted with minds, in additions to brains, that is to say, such brilliant software that runs inside the hardware, that we’d have come up with something a bit more poetic by now but eh no matter. I’ve a lot of pet peeves. In fact on that same news entertainment show I mentioned above, a few months ago, there was a clip about a “famous” guy in the celebrity limelight who was said to purchase ordinary “Eight dollar Walmart khaki pants.” the lady anchor woman I shall not name stated…”Wow, I didn’t even KNOW they MADE eight dollar khakis!”
I stewed over that comment for a long time. Then I researched khakis. I saw an advertisement for Joseph A. Bank men’s sixty dollar khakis. Hmmmmm. I pretty much outfitted my boys on eight dollar Walmart khakis when they were in school. In fact when my grown sons find bargain khakis they still come to me proud they’ve saved money. People HAVE to save money where they can. This is the world so many of us live in. This is the reality for so many of us. Okay, the news anchor’s comment still bothers me. Why? I’ll tell you why.
These news/entertainment shows often have fashion segments on designers that they assume we know something about: handbag people, gown designers, etc. etc. Yet they report on eight dollar khakis from Walmart and she says she didn’t even know they existed? What’s with the disconnect? I mean, just who do you think your viewing audience is, anyway? I almost stopped watching the show entirely. On the subject of human brains, pet peeves, and on me being what amounts to grammar police-Another pet peeve of mine is people, in particular, men who insist on calling grown women: girls. Stop it. that’s such a sixties thing.
One more: people who say the words thank you like this: thang cue. That’s how they pronounce it. It’s a little thing but it’s a big thing to me. Thank has the letter K on the end of it. More and more people are saying Thang Kyooooo…. I don’t mean to be grammar police …I really don’t but I feel better for having vented . Thanks!
Here’s my happy place. I know a little girl in her Inflorescence years… In fact she’ll be two soon. I obtained a plastic toy at a discount store for less than three dollars. It’s an inflexible, hard, not-very-pliable unsoft “dog” that barks quite unrealistically when you tip it upside down. She felt compelled to carry it around, mumble sweet words to it and lay it on the floor and cover it in a soft blanket.
To see someone not in the world any longer than two whole years and she has a natural inclination to nurture (plastic, I know, but still) relaxes the roiling in me lately that has been churning. It’s the little things like this that help. Cats help, as do dogs. Lately I understand the importance of obstacles as much as I resent having to become a hurdler.
For my next blog, I am going to do something to feed my gruesome mood and I’m going to enjoy every moment of it. It’s an exercise in fairy tale dissection. Very Grim ones indeed. I hope you will enjoy them. I’m busy but will get to it soon. Thank you for reading.