Good fortune is a matter of preparation and great timing. But, what we believe, experience and do depends on our unique perspective. I recently heard an interview with the founder of Facebook. He talked about developing the utility so college students could build community and how it had morphed into a worldwide community of millions. One of the most surprising things has been the number of people over 35 who have joined to find friends and family they lost track of.
In January, my daughter set up a Facebook for me. I was so suprised that rather quickly my friends list grew to include, not only those I talk to regularly, but family and friends I lost contact with 15, 20, even 30 years ago. These are people I have always loved and missed but didn't know how to find, and was a bit afraid wouldn't be near as interested in finding me again.
Last week, I wrote a posting called Getting Rite with God. I discussed the rites of the church and how valuable it has been to me to go through a formal and rigorous process of self examination in my decision to join the Roman Catholic church. I also said that if I had gone through such a process before my two weddings I would not have married.
Today, warming up after a long walk in a very cold, grey rain, I realized that I may have hurt someone. My first husband is a kind man who always tried to do what was best for me. Unfortunately, we met on my 19th birthday, and married six weeks later for three very rocky years. The truth is, I don't know if I would have made a different decision 30 years ago if I had been Catholic and had the structure of the church. Structure and rules have never really stopped me from anything I wanted to do.
Today, I am very different, while still being the same woman. I suppose who I am has not changed but my perspective has. Writing this blog is a much bigger exercise in self-revelation than I expected. I pray I never offend you and, if I do, I pray you know that it was unintentional. Unfortunately, as always, my truth can be a bit messy.
3rd Rock from the Sun, 1996 - Dick, the Commander, at a Halloween party, dressed as a pirate: Question: Where's your buccaneer's?
Answer: "Under my buccanhat."
It's all a matter of perspective.
And that joke has always cracked me up.
594. Tuesday, June 9, 2026
2 days ago
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ReplyDeleteIs who I am, what I say, what I think, what I like or dislike potentially offensive? Yes, I am confident it is.
ReplyDeleteHow much do I choose to be concerned with this?
Certainly, I hope to move through life only offending when I choose to do so consciously, but, alas, that is hard to ensure (even as my active desire to be offensive at all has shrunk to wispy proportions). Sometimes, though, I think I have become over-concerned, even paralyzed, with offending someone (as if there is a common agreement on what that means, with each of wearing skins of different thicknesses).
Which is the greater offense:
offering anything that may challenge others' ideas,that may cross them or contradict their own experiences? Or considering others too delicate to withstand my difference from them, whatever form(s)it takes?
The important considerations to make before puttting myself "out there" revolve around intent and purpose for doing so. Self-aggrandizement, of course, is not worth it (but is frustratingly not always obvious to me at the time of expression -- oops! apologies). Sharing the paths I've walked & what I've learned along the way, for whatever value others may glean from my personal experience -- this is worth the the risk of self-revelation (vulnerability) & offense, for the intent is to shine a light on my own errors & mud pits & places I went off in the ditches in hopes that others may learn without the same pain. That too, risks disrespecting others and their own paths. Perhaps, like unrequested advice, they would be better served to simply be loved, without any attempt to guide them.
Ultimately, I suppose the only thing I can try to ensure is to think twice, speak once (if at all).
My apologies to carpenters everywhere for co-opting their wise lesson.