I've always found the idiosyncrasies of human nature especially amusing, specifically, people's reactions to life's "planned opportunities." Not like you can actually plan for much of anything during the microseconds in which each of us occupies this small slice of cosmic real estate, but there are times when making a decision between "Choice A" and "Choice B" creates the faux appearance of planning ahead. For those with the predisposition for living scheduled, organized lives, cherish those moments. Life, I'm convinced, is not fit for planning, or the appearance of such. Thank God, or Buddha, or whoever we need to thank.
So, when I tell people that we are moving to The Netherlands, I've stopped anticipating their reaction, which, despite my "I'm in touch with people perspective," I've found, over the past several weeks, any such efforts are Maciavellian at best.
My favorite is:
"Is this something you planned for?"
"Ummm ... Sure, I've planned for this since I was 2." Then I scream at them for asking such a stupid question. Then, I realize there is no such thing as a stupid question, just stupid people. Sorry, can I give you a hug?
In any case, I tend to answer this question with a uncharacteristically tempered response: "Sure, we planned for this, once the opportunity presented itself. In fact, we still have 5 weeks to plan before we leave!"
The fact is, opportunities come, and go, and the great thing about them is that they can be embraced, ignored or just plain missed. BUT THEY CAN'T BE PLANNED FOR! Hell, I think I missed a decade's worth a few years back. Those were more forgotten about, than ignored or missed. I can't remember. But, if I had planned on those opportunities , you can bet I wouldn't have missed them ... or forgotten them either.
@#$%!
The runner-up question is:
"Where IS The Netherlands?"
And, that's a whole different subject. But my point here is that what has happened to the spontaneity of life? Do you think our Neanderthalic fore fathers planned to discover fire.
Discovering Fire: Take 1
"Frank, what are your plans for today?"
"I think I'm going to head to the east valley to find a mammoth. What are your plans Jim?"
"Jeannie read about this thing called 'fire' in one of her monthly cave drawings. It said that fire is the quickest way to a woman's heart. I think I'm going to try to find some for myself."
"Good luck."
"You too."
I wasn't there, and maybe that IS how it happened. Maybe. My vote is that is happened like this:
Discovering Fire: Take 2
Lightning strikes tree.
Tree catches fire.
Distant relation of modern man investigates flickering light on tree.
Distant relation of modern man touches flickering light on tree.
Distant relation of modern man yells, "HOLY SHIT THAT'S HOT!"
Neighbor of distant relation of modern man investigates charred hand of Captain Curiosity.
Neighbor thinks charred hand smells good.
BBQ
Getting back to my point, spontaneity, it seems, along with it the chaos of life around us, is slowly being replaced in the darkest corner of our instinctual minds by an even darker force - advanced planning, of which the only result we can expect is organized chaos. Frankly, I still prefer simple, plain chaos.
So, in these next few weeks of planning, planning and more planning, one thing I'm planning to do is reconnecting with my own animalistic insticts through my dog. Because, you can bet, as the boxes begin to pile up and our lives uprooted, my wily companion won't ask questions about how and why. Instead, he'll continue to chase the birds, pounce in the snow and disregard commands with the same unabashed spontaneity that once defined our own lives on this Earth as an adventure.
SCJ
So, when I tell people that we are moving to The Netherlands, I've stopped anticipating their reaction, which, despite my "I'm in touch with people perspective," I've found, over the past several weeks, any such efforts are Maciavellian at best.
My favorite is:
"Is this something you planned for?"
"Ummm ... Sure, I've planned for this since I was 2." Then I scream at them for asking such a stupid question. Then, I realize there is no such thing as a stupid question, just stupid people. Sorry, can I give you a hug?
In any case, I tend to answer this question with a uncharacteristically tempered response: "Sure, we planned for this, once the opportunity presented itself. In fact, we still have 5 weeks to plan before we leave!"
The fact is, opportunities come, and go, and the great thing about them is that they can be embraced, ignored or just plain missed. BUT THEY CAN'T BE PLANNED FOR! Hell, I think I missed a decade's worth a few years back. Those were more forgotten about, than ignored or missed. I can't remember. But, if I had planned on those opportunities , you can bet I wouldn't have missed them ... or forgotten them either.
@#$%!
The runner-up question is:
"Where IS The Netherlands?"
And, that's a whole different subject. But my point here is that what has happened to the spontaneity of life? Do you think our Neanderthalic fore fathers planned to discover fire.
Discovering Fire: Take 1
"Frank, what are your plans for today?"
"I think I'm going to head to the east valley to find a mammoth. What are your plans Jim?"
"Jeannie read about this thing called 'fire' in one of her monthly cave drawings. It said that fire is the quickest way to a woman's heart. I think I'm going to try to find some for myself."
"Good luck."
"You too."
I wasn't there, and maybe that IS how it happened. Maybe. My vote is that is happened like this:
Discovering Fire: Take 2
Lightning strikes tree.
Tree catches fire.
Distant relation of modern man investigates flickering light on tree.
Distant relation of modern man touches flickering light on tree.
Distant relation of modern man yells, "HOLY SHIT THAT'S HOT!"
Neighbor of distant relation of modern man investigates charred hand of Captain Curiosity.
Neighbor thinks charred hand smells good.
BBQ
Getting back to my point, spontaneity, it seems, along with it the chaos of life around us, is slowly being replaced in the darkest corner of our instinctual minds by an even darker force - advanced planning, of which the only result we can expect is organized chaos. Frankly, I still prefer simple, plain chaos.
So, in these next few weeks of planning, planning and more planning, one thing I'm planning to do is reconnecting with my own animalistic insticts through my dog. Because, you can bet, as the boxes begin to pile up and our lives uprooted, my wily companion won't ask questions about how and why. Instead, he'll continue to chase the birds, pounce in the snow and disregard commands with the same unabashed spontaneity that once defined our own lives on this Earth as an adventure.
SCJ
