I wrote in an email earlier today: Today’s prompt is to write about a wise decision made this year. #lolololololol
You know me–or you’re getting to know me–I don’t take a word like “wisdom” lightly. And that I ought to share something with you about a WISE DECISION THAT I MANAGED TO MAKE–I’m not going to pick just anything. I’m not just going to say, I decided to stop drinking my way through mornings! I’m not spending all my money on llama stickers anymore! I’m finally holding to my oft-recited motto, “Mayo is a side! Not a main! A side!”
People, I am so vexed about this post I am losing my mind.
- What makes a decision wise? And am I even writing about a wise decision, or just my wisest decision? A mildly idiotic decision by a Grade A Idiot might qualify as “wisest” even if relatively (broader scheme) “unwise.”
- I’m only 30. Am I allowed to claim wisdom? Am I able to claim wisdom or wise-ish-ness has originated from ME?? That seems braggy. But maybe I’m a braggart. I have a blog, after all. Talk about a prolonged selfie.
- Unwise things I have managed to do on the way to writing a post about wisdom:
- Pick several fights with my husband
- Be distracted at work
- Eat candy
- Totter on the edge of a depressive episode
- Skip exercise–skip YOGA
The emperor is not wise, people. Not wise at all.
In 2013, I almost made a really, really, really bad decision. An unwise decision, by anyone’s standards of wisdom. And that I didn’t isn’t because I managed to seize Wisdom by her hair and pull her–that is to say, me–out of the bleakness–no. Not at all. I needed OUT and AWAY from my own head and latent un-wise-ability, and what I got–what I was blessed with–was a friend, a new best friend, coming along for me at the exact moment I needed her.
Is this noteworthy, in a conversation about wisdom? It is for me: sharing what I shared with my friend was a breaking of habit for me. I have become accustomed to dealing with these bleaker aspects of myself on my own–I have become habitually independent, to a fault. I hate to need. I’ve been told I have a fossilized heart.
Oh wait no, that was my friend Mattingly’s accusation after I said I didn’t really care about the fossil record. Different story. Back on track.
Wisdom: break your pattern.
Don’t stop being you–gosh, I’M not going to stop eating mayonnaise–but consider what might be gained when we respond to a situation–to ourselves!–slightly outside of the norm. Given that it’s not habitual, I have to believe there’s going to be something new there–and new can be good.
New saved me this year.
This post is part of Think Kit by Smallbox.