one Christmas when i was little -- i guess about eight or nine years old -- my great-grandmother gave me a toy xylophone. it was white with multi-color keys and little wheels. it came with a little wooden mallet or you could pull it along and hidden mallets would strike the keys as it rolled. i was DISGUSTED! to my oh-so-grown-up eight year old self, this was a baby's toy.
of course i did not say that! by eight i was fully aware that saying anything ungrateful at Christmas, much less to my great-grandmother, would result in something other than those keys getting hit. i just muttered "Thank You" and set it aside to be ignored. dutifully my mother packed it up and brought it home.
but, the thing is -- i played with that little xylophone for yeeeeeaaars. i loved the colors of the metal keys even as they wore away over the years. i loved the sound it made when i drug the mallet (or a rock or a key or whatever was nearby) across the tiny keys or pulled it along. even today, should i stumble across one i can't resist the simple joy of tapping out little tunes on it.
the lesson here is that i thought i knew what i wanted and nothing about that little toy fit my expectations. it was simple, colorful, required creativity and imagination, and could hold my attention without the very first electronic blip or blink. but, of course, it took years for me to learn to appreciate all those things. i still don't know that i've completely learned the lesson.
we all think we know what we want. we have long lists of wants and needs stored in our heads lying in wait just to be asked. we look at things.. at places.. at people.. and make quick judgments about their worth. in Our Infinite Arrogance, we think we know what we want.
if we're very lucky, we're afforded the chance to learn how wrong we are.
years later my mother intended to sell my xylophone in a garage sale. horrified i pulled it from the To Be Sold box. she gave me that look of tired disdain (do they teach that look?) and said, "you never even wanted that thing." it was then i realized that she was right! (i didn't say that of course.) while it now seemed in-con-ceivable to me to lose it, i clearly remembered wanting nothing to do with it just a few Christmas Eve's ago.
look, i could quote example after example, but think about it: how many times have you received something that was nothing like what you "wanted" only to discover how wrong you had been all along? Life's greatest surprises are the ones we experience at our own expense.
you know i still have to learn this everyday. i still think i want the white chocolate mocha latte until i get the salted caramel espresso by mistake. but i've learned to smile whenever Life gives me the nudge and the wink. *sigh* i'll probably never learn. i kinda hope not! i've learned to really love the learning process.
of course i did not say that! by eight i was fully aware that saying anything ungrateful at Christmas, much less to my great-grandmother, would result in something other than those keys getting hit. i just muttered "Thank You" and set it aside to be ignored. dutifully my mother packed it up and brought it home.
but, the thing is -- i played with that little xylophone for yeeeeeaaars. i loved the colors of the metal keys even as they wore away over the years. i loved the sound it made when i drug the mallet (or a rock or a key or whatever was nearby) across the tiny keys or pulled it along. even today, should i stumble across one i can't resist the simple joy of tapping out little tunes on it.
the lesson here is that i thought i knew what i wanted and nothing about that little toy fit my expectations. it was simple, colorful, required creativity and imagination, and could hold my attention without the very first electronic blip or blink. but, of course, it took years for me to learn to appreciate all those things. i still don't know that i've completely learned the lesson.
we all think we know what we want. we have long lists of wants and needs stored in our heads lying in wait just to be asked. we look at things.. at places.. at people.. and make quick judgments about their worth. in Our Infinite Arrogance, we think we know what we want.
if we're very lucky, we're afforded the chance to learn how wrong we are.
years later my mother intended to sell my xylophone in a garage sale. horrified i pulled it from the To Be Sold box. she gave me that look of tired disdain (do they teach that look?) and said, "you never even wanted that thing." it was then i realized that she was right! (i didn't say that of course.) while it now seemed in-con-ceivable to me to lose it, i clearly remembered wanting nothing to do with it just a few Christmas Eve's ago.
look, i could quote example after example, but think about it: how many times have you received something that was nothing like what you "wanted" only to discover how wrong you had been all along? Life's greatest surprises are the ones we experience at our own expense.
you know i still have to learn this everyday. i still think i want the white chocolate mocha latte until i get the salted caramel espresso by mistake. but i've learned to smile whenever Life gives me the nudge and the wink. *sigh* i'll probably never learn. i kinda hope not! i've learned to really love the learning process.
what can I say, that was beautiful
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