On Being Unpredictable, Predictably
- Strange symmetry in the sky in Rosagnio, Italy. Photo by http://www.chrisholtphotos.com
I had a crappy day today. Sick on the sofa with too many thoughts hanging around. My parrot Bennie kept me good company. She has recently started saying my name a lot. “Kerry, c’mere,” she calls me. “Kerry, love you.”
I love that she loves me. In fact, we are a lot alike — passionate, full of life and prone to bite when we are frightened or frustrated. My Mom used to say I was moody. I’m not sure I’m moody anymore but some days I just can’t seem to get lift off. It often happens after a few weeks of heavy socializing (which I love) but then the introvert in me craves alone-time and I crash.
Some people think I’m unpredictable which seems to go with the territory of being an extroverted introvert and a poet. I’m not so sure I’m really unpredictable so much as predictably changeable. Kind of like my parrot. If you know that about her, you don’t expect consistency; you learn how to read the signs that she’s had enough.
Besides, who says I have to be the same every day? Who wants to be the McDonald’s of moods? I may not be predictable but I am relatively reliable. I’m a loyal friend. A good Mom. My husband has stuck with me for two decades. And my parrot loves me.
Here’s what I’ve learned: people love to tell other people how they should be. I’m sure I’ve done it. It’s all about making ourselves comfortable, trying to bend the current our way, harness the electricity because if it’s not grounded, it kind of scares us. Even so, there’s a reason people like watching storms. There’s a reason people like to chase them.
I’m not here to make tea cozies for people (even though I value a good tea cozy). I’m here to complete myself and contribute something positive to the world through creativity and love — and those I love know they can count on that. My daughter knows she can always have a hug. My friends know they can call me day or night. My husband knows how I feel.
So that’s my thoughts on this rainy day on an Island in the stormy Pacific. I guess it’s a request of the universe to let me remain a free spirit. Or an explanation. Or justification. But it’s not an apology.