blame your parents

I’m up early this morning, half awake with an empty head and a need to write. The two don’t work well together. I haven’t written as frequently as I used to, and I hadn’t intended to publish posts as frequently this time around. But I miss it.

. .. . …. .

I’m going skydiving again tomorrow. I became an addict after one hit. I called my mom, and we talked about the first dive. She wasn’t as concerned as I thought she would be, maybe because I’ve always been a risk taker. All of her kids have been…are. She told me my uncle used to skydive every weekend with his friends. He had a pilot license, and they rotated who flew and who jumped and then went home to drink beer and talk about it. Skydiving is expensive, or else I’d be jumping every chance I got. This need to live on the edge seems to run in the family, so maybe it would save me a lot of time if instead of trying to sift out the things that aren’t me, I’d just look to my ancestry. As I check off my list of things I like to do and can do, I find that these things are already written in the history of my ancestors. Someday one of my descendants will learn about me, and I wonder what they’ll discover. I wonder what they’ll discover about themselves.

Did you know that experiences alter your DNA? That puts an entirely new perspective on passing the genetic torch. You can influence the potential for joy and meaningfulness of your child’s and grandchild’s (and so on’s) life. You can make a difference in the world even after you’re dead, not just by influencing others around you but by naturally manipulating your genetic code. That’s powerful stuff.

.  . … . .. . .  ….   .

I learned a couple of days ago that due to unavoidable circumstance, I lost my planning period and that I am the only person who this happened to. I could be bitter about it and scream unfair, but that’s a childish approach. Nothing can be done about it anyway. This is the type of challenge I don’t enjoy, nor is it a choice. It seems that it’s always the battles I don’t like that I’m required to face. But then why would I willingly put myself in a difficult situation that I don’t like? The rational answer would be that I wouldn’t. Given that I’ve done it, that I’ve tempted a fate that I greatly fear for the purpose of beating it, for the opportunity to beat it, I should embrace this problem. And it’s a serious problem, not because of unfairness but because of logistics. I spent a lot of time, effort, money, blood sweat and tears to learn how to solve problems, so I’ll figure out how to make it work. I won’t like it, but I’ll do it. I can do it. My descendants are counting on it. But don’t be surprised to hear me cry through this electric ink now and then.

. ….. .. . .. .. . ….  ..

That’s all I have this morning. I’m leaving now to figure out what I’m going to do with my day. What good things await?


Author: uncaged

When Picasso painted a blue Seated Woman in a Chair, he was unconsciously thinking of me.

One thought on “blame your parents”

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