Sometimes I struggle with what exactly to write about. There are days when so many things happen, things that I wouldn’t experience in Minnesota, that I can’t write enough. Well, I don’t want you to have to read a minute by minute account of my day, no matter how interesting it was to me. I try to be a little discerning about what I choose for you. Other days, like today, I don’t know exactly what to write about.
It was just another day here in paradise. 75 degrees, sunshine and except for the cottonwood fluff flying around, a pretty beautiful day.
I guess I am feeling a little thoughtful. I don’t know if that’s the right word. I got an e-mail from an old friend yesterday. She’s beautiful. She’s incredibly successful in her career. She will never have to worry about money (at least the way most of us do) in her lifetime. But she is unhappy. As she puts it “unhappily divorced.”
That’s a tough statement to reply to. Because I think that for all the success that she has in her life, it is more than the divorce that makes her feel unhappy. Every since I have known her, her make up has had to be perfect. Her clothes need to be “right” as well as the people she associates with. What people think about her matters so very much.
How do you tell someone you love that she need to start trusting her own heart instead of relying on others for her sense of self-worth? How do you put her in front of a mirror without bringing along all the other eyes she carries inside her head? How do you prove, after years of believing money is the root of happiness, that happiness is free?
I wish I could empty my head for her and share the things that I have found through my own experiences. I want to say “See this, you don’t have to do this because I did, and this is what happened.“ But I remember thinking how preachy people sounded to me when they told me things I wasn’t ready to hear. I guess I love her enough to let her come to these things in her own time and her own way. And when she does find her happiness it will be a joy that no one can take away from her.
Speaking of preachy, today I saw my first Italian Mormons. I may have seen others because it isn’t as strange here to see men riding bikes in suits and ties as it would be in Minnesota, but I looked hard to be sure about these two. White shirts, black ties, black pocket protector name tags and bike helmets. The only thing that seemed out of place were the expressions on their faces. In Minnesota they are almost always smiling; rain, snow, 100 degrees in the shade, they are always smiling. These guys weren’t smiling at all. In fact they looked like they had eaten something bad and just heard that their cat died. It struck me as odd so I thought I’d share that. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling odd…today even the Mormons are having a hard time smiling.