I have been pondering for a while now Danielle LaPorte’s dictum that how we feel about life is how we feel about people.
Because this seems true enough, but a part of me said, “really”? so then I had to think it through.
And how I feel about life is that although it can be highly annoying, it is an excellent and lovely thing, full of interesting things to do and think about, and interesting people to talk to and love, and one never knows what is going to happen next and it is quite a ride.
Put like that, it seems obvious that’s how I feel about people, too, so varied, so wonderful, so dreadful, occasionally. One never knows what they’re going to do next.
But I know that I require my space, and I’ll disappear from people — sometimes if you’re sitting in a room with me, which I’m told can be disconcerting (though in my defense if I know that it’s Pay Attention Time I’m good at that). And so I started to wonder, do I disappear from life?
Well. This was a week when I was ill enough to stay home from work, and keep things very simple. I did get some things done, but they none of them required walking around. Now, it wasn’t one of those high-fever-stay-in-bed sorts of illnesses that makes it obvious that None of This is Going to Last — no, no; I enjoy those, really, they’re so dramatic, but it wasn’t that. It was just a constant coughing, not much lung capacity, inability to talk sort of illness.
And I think really that illness is one of the ways that I disappear from life.
And as with people, it’s not really that I’m completely gone. It’s that I’m focused elsewhere.
So. Yes. How I feel about people is how I feel about life. I enjoy them. I think they are awesome. I want to know all about them and their histories and how things are going. I love them dearly.
And sometimes I focus elsewhere.
Glad to be back, though.