Courage, II

Today I've had my life changed by George Sheehan. Do you know who he is? A runner/philosopher. And I can't think of a better thing to be. But that's not quite right, because 'being' certainly isn't (according to Sheehan...and according to Monica) subject to the right/wrong or good/bad dichotomy.

But the other thing I've had my life changed by is DI. Yes, you're right, Deseret Industries, Mormon version of the Salvation Army. And by the Provo Farmer's Market. Because the thing that a person doesn't have to contend with in company with these two institutions, is the ridiculously over-whelming voice of ..of... I'm not sure what to call it or where to place the blame... but of the world at large.. Babylon! There's the word. The voice of Babylon trying to tell you how to live, what to buy, how to dress, who to be. I found at these two institutions, however, the humble people. And I like them--I wish I was more like them. I'm so much more comfortable with them. So much would rather spend a day at DI than at the mall, so much rather laughing and trying to communicate with the non-English speaking man who sold me raspberries at the farmer's market.

And I just couldn't get enough. I spent some time sifting through the racks, searching for a much needed pair of jeans, then rambled through the shoe section and onto the books in the back. That's where I found George, and heard more clearly articulated the thoughts I was already starting to have, and the peace that was already starting to free me from the shoulds and musts and various injunctions and condemnations of a world intent on repressing the me out of me:

"When I was young, I knew who I was and tried to become someone else. I was a born loner. I came into this world with an instinct for privacy, a desire for solitude and an aversion to loud voices, to slamming doors and to my fellow man. I was born with the dread that someone would punch me in the nose or, even worse, put his arm around me."

(I almost cried so much did I identify with this paragraph.)

"But I refused to be that person. I wanted to belong. Wanted to become part of the herd, any herd. When you are shy and tense and self-conscious, when you are thin and scrawny and have an overbite and a nose that takes up about one third of your body surface, you want friends, you want to join with others. My problem was not individuality, but identity. I was more of an individual than I could handle. I had to identify with a group....

"I spent the next four decades [that makes me feel less old, and slightly less foolish] with these feelings of being unworthy and incomplete and inferior. Combating my own nature... Concealing the real me under layer after layer of coping and adjusting and compensating. All the while refusing to believe that the person I had initially rejected was the real me. All the while trying to pass as a normal member of society.

"Then I discovered running and began the long road back. Running made me free. It rid me of concern for the opinion of others. Dispensed me from rules and regulations imposed from outside. Running let me start from scratch."

Oh, and much more.

And as I drove home, thoughts such as these opened up my head and seemed very profound: where does the world get off trying to tell me how to dress (chiefly I'm thinking of "What Not To Wear" that crazy, addictive phenomenon), how to eat, how to exercise, how to structure my day, whether or not to structure my day, my week, month, life... where to shop, what's cool and in and hip, and what's not.. ? Huh? Because the crux of the matter is for me to find and remember how to be me, minus the crippling fear of judgment from one of these many outside voices.

And as I write this, no, I don't think these thoughts are terribly profound, in a general sense. A common problem, common subject. But important to me right now.