I’ve always longed to be taller and more narrow.
When we are born we inhabit our body's blueprint much the same as the four-walled structure of a house or office.
Like the walls of a room, there are things about my body I can change. I can fluctuate my weight, I can part my hair differently, I can tan my skin. But, there is a much longer and concrete list of things I will never be able to change. Height, for starters.
One of the most important factors in determining a person’s happiness is having a grasp on what is in your control and what is out of it. A person continually fighting against that which is inalterable will not be happy and will regret such time spent. Likewise, a person stagnant and unprogressive will be similarly discontent.
One of the last classes I took before graduating was biopsychology. I had an enthusiastic professor who had an extraordinary gift to explain brain functions simply and sensibly. Day one of our class she testified to the power of the brain. She spent the rest of the semester proving her words accurate.
As a psychologist and an observer, I too cannot deny the power of the brain. It is astounding what it can do, incredible what it can believe, and phenomenal how differently it can perceive. When desperate or willful enough, our brain can actually create what we want to see as clearly as a lake miraging in the desert. Even so--just as I cannot make myself taller--our brain also has its limits. Eventually, the lake will turn back into a pumpkin.
Did you know we are born with an emotional skeleton just as intractable as our physical bones? A frame from which feelings must hang and a structure beyond which they cannot extend?
All too often I see people examining the walls they inhabit, embarrassed and vulnerable to have them bare. So, they pick up a roller and paint the wall blue. Two, three coats of paint, if necessary.
“See my wall?” They say. “It’s blue.”
The rest of us are not convinced. “No,” we conclude. “Your PAINT is blue. The wall, however, is only being masked by blue paint.”
“The wall is BLUE!” they defend. “I’ve determined a blue wall is what I want. It is necessary. Blue wall is ultimately what I need to be happy. I have made the wall blue. The wall will stay blue.”
And, sensing how important it is for this wall to be blue, we treat these people as though their wall is blue. “Hey! How’s that blue wall?” we say. And “Good for you for making that wall blue!” we encourage.
Some people even believe it. “His wall really is blue,” they say. “He told me so.” And “I’ve seen it. In person. His wall really is blue.” Another testament to what the power of the brain can see.
But, ultimately, the wall has been painted. Masked. Coated. Eventually, there will be a chip. A crack. An impression. Gluey ideas, gummy experiences, and indelible people will stick to the wall and peel strips away when they leave. And there these marks will stay like scars, shaming the painter. Until he realizes no one left seems to mind the parts of the bare wall peeking through. In fact, he doesn’t mind them so much himself. Those are the parts that make him...him! The blue may be pretty, but it has been covering his very essence. And away he’ll rip the paint in large, hurling pieces, relishing in new-found freedom, his wall, at last, finally able to breathe…and be.
I guess I've seen too many fish gasping to be birds to conclude anything other than fish are meant to be fish.
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