Friday, June 1, 2007

"Meme"-ries, Part II

I was tagged with a new meme recently by Sara. Referred to as a "4 X 2" meme, the goal was to list four new things that happened in your life in the last four years and then list four new things that you would like to try in the next four years.

In reading the 4 X 2 submissions connected to Sara's tag, I was struck by the dramatic changes that had occurred in each of the submitters lives; relocation to foreign locales, children's graduations, the death of a very dear loved one, the ending of a long-term relationship to name just a few. Four years ago, I doubt that any of these events would have been included on the "four things to try in the next four years" part of this meme. But as Sara so perfectly pointed out in one of her comments to the post (and I'm paraphrasing here), it's a tribute to our resiliency that none of these tragic or dramatic events have defined who we are.

I think the fact that we are willing to try four (and more) new things in the future is the key to this resiliency.

Four years ago, just owning a dog - not to mention training a service dog, was not even remotely in my plans for the future. Yet here I am, working with Belle on a daily basis, meeting others whose lives have become bound with mine because of her, and thoroughly enjoying every minute of the experience (well, maybe not the diarrhea minutes).

So how does this particular meme-ry light the corners of my mind? Life would certainly be a lot easier if it was laid out like the checkerboard squares of the farm fields seen from an airplane. With well marked intersections, and straight lines that allowed you to see all that was headed your way. But life isn't like that, and we can't see what's ahead. Yet the surprises in store are just as likely to be delightful as they are to be tragic. The key is to keep moving, eventually another path opens. The only real tragedy would be to choose not to take it.

1 comment:

carrot said...

Lu, you couldn't be more right. I think a good life is one where you find yourself occasionally looking around and going, "How the hell did I get HERE?" and at the same time know that you can't imagine being anywhere else.