I was unhappy for a chunk of my life. During this period I spent a great deal of time trying to figure out what was wrong with me. What could I do to be more productive? More centered? Calmer? Hours turned into days; days into weeks. The longer I struggled with my imperfections the less happy I became. I stopped writing.
I don’t remember a flash of understanding, but at some point I remembered from my days studying zoology that I am an animal. Animals have instincts, proclivities, skills and characteristics. Fish don’t fly. Birds don’t smell each other’s behinds. They just do what they do. The lucky ones seem to enjoy it, like this fabulous dog.
I’m reminded of ugly dog contests. California has several. The dogs I’m guessing have no idea that they’re the butt of jokes. They couldn’t care less. The winner gets the most attention. It’s a dog party. Everybody gets to be who they are.
The ugly dog contest became my metaphor. I’ll be the dog I am with the looks and talents and proclivities I have. How can I not be? Is it even possible? I’ll do what dogs like me do. What path could be better than that?
My life is better now. There are more ups now, though I do get down sometimes. When I do, I think of dogs at a party for dogs.
And read Lynette’s book: The Handsomest Man In Cuba http://www.galfromdownunder.com/cuba/