"I mean this as a compliment - I have to preface my comment that way, because some people would not take it as such - but you are very child-like in your approach to some things."
My co-worker was worried that I would take offense. She need not have been concerned.
The context: I had picked up a few agates from a parking lot on the way to work. I geek out about these stones, and when I find a pretty one, I like to share. So I showed it to her, and in some way, I wanted an ooh. Or an ahh. I am pretty accustomed to people not being impressed with the same things that I am, but it doesn't seem to ever translate into a loss of enthusiasm.
I guess most people learn to tamper their outward displays of enthusiasm, but that has always been hard for me. I tend to interrupt adults when they are talking if I am excited, I stop while I am walking and marvel at the amazing bug, and I can't pass by a gravel driveway without looking for fossils. And jaspers. And agates. And geodes.
And then, when I find one, I want to show it off.
When I was four, I found a penny in a parking lot, and never stopped looking for more. And by that, I mean I could not pass by the SAME parking lot, without looking for more. I used to find bbs in the street (yes, bbs from a bb-gun; I collected them religiously). I loved finding rare shells on the beach. I found a stone in Belem (where rocks are not present) that was later identified by a geologist as obsidian (I am pretty sure it was not). All my life I have been fascinated by what I find - what treasures appear at my feet.
The incident with me showing off the agate made my coworker stop for a moment when her four-year-old wanted to show her his newly-established prowess with tying his shoes. Mama, WATCH. It slowed her down to appreciate the beauty in the items without number that she is handed every day - Mama, LOOK.
The past few weeks have been difficult in a lot of ways, and it is easy to get caught up in the importance of doing something. Pushing, arguing, trying, making changes, getting things done. And there is a time for spending all of your time and effort working your butt off for those things.
But there is also importance in being generous with your time. Sometimes, that generosity takes the form of sitting with a new friend on his porch, drinking his coffee and eating a muffin, while talking about how times are different. Sometimes, it looks much more like the silliness of a middle-aged man joining in with girls as they are doing double-dutch jump rope. Other times, it is sitting quietly with a friend who needs someone to sit quietly with them. And sometimes, it means putting the whole morning's schedule on hold while the four-year-old ties his shoes.
And every once in a while, generosity of spirit shows itself in the form of a co-worker who is willing to marvel at yet another rock.
My co-worker was worried that I would take offense. She need not have been concerned.
The context: I had picked up a few agates from a parking lot on the way to work. I geek out about these stones, and when I find a pretty one, I like to share. So I showed it to her, and in some way, I wanted an ooh. Or an ahh. I am pretty accustomed to people not being impressed with the same things that I am, but it doesn't seem to ever translate into a loss of enthusiasm.
I guess most people learn to tamper their outward displays of enthusiasm, but that has always been hard for me. I tend to interrupt adults when they are talking if I am excited, I stop while I am walking and marvel at the amazing bug, and I can't pass by a gravel driveway without looking for fossils. And jaspers. And agates. And geodes.
And then, when I find one, I want to show it off.
When I was four, I found a penny in a parking lot, and never stopped looking for more. And by that, I mean I could not pass by the SAME parking lot, without looking for more. I used to find bbs in the street (yes, bbs from a bb-gun; I collected them religiously). I loved finding rare shells on the beach. I found a stone in Belem (where rocks are not present) that was later identified by a geologist as obsidian (I am pretty sure it was not). All my life I have been fascinated by what I find - what treasures appear at my feet.
The incident with me showing off the agate made my coworker stop for a moment when her four-year-old wanted to show her his newly-established prowess with tying his shoes. Mama, WATCH. It slowed her down to appreciate the beauty in the items without number that she is handed every day - Mama, LOOK.
The past few weeks have been difficult in a lot of ways, and it is easy to get caught up in the importance of doing something. Pushing, arguing, trying, making changes, getting things done. And there is a time for spending all of your time and effort working your butt off for those things.
But there is also importance in being generous with your time. Sometimes, that generosity takes the form of sitting with a new friend on his porch, drinking his coffee and eating a muffin, while talking about how times are different. Sometimes, it looks much more like the silliness of a middle-aged man joining in with girls as they are doing double-dutch jump rope. Other times, it is sitting quietly with a friend who needs someone to sit quietly with them. And sometimes, it means putting the whole morning's schedule on hold while the four-year-old ties his shoes.
And every once in a while, generosity of spirit shows itself in the form of a co-worker who is willing to marvel at yet another rock.
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