Thursday, January 31, 2013

no more phonebooths = no more heroes - is anyone investigating the possible connection - call Soledad

anyone can be a superhero
Being a hero was a tricky job.

Besides being able to change into your superhero cape in a tiny little phonebooth and besides being able to leap tall buildings in a  single bound, well, we pretty much required that you be ... perfect.

And because this perfection, this state of rightness, doesn't really exist it required some conspiratorial bullshit to keep your superhero cape on straight.

We are living in a time of incredible change - the beginning of ... well, something else - something real.

A world where real trumps right;

a place where there is no perfect and the real heroes are the makers

(anyone making a real life and making real choices, even when things get messy and scary and we don't know what the hell we are doing yet or where the hell this is all going)

who are scared to death but putting ourselves out there anyway. This stuff is not for sissies.

Courage is telling our story,
not being immune to criticism
- Brene Brown
(and if you haven't watched her TED talk lately, it's HERE)

This new paradigm has the superhero confused.

(and we can't really blame her because we are the ones who gave her that cape, and pointed her toward the tallest building and told her she could fly in the first place)

Tomorrow is hub's birthday and I just bought the makings for his cake (and yes, we're talking Duncan Hines here). It reminded me of his 21st birthday when I made him a cake and it was such a mess that I tossed it and bought him a store made one. Then he called and said he couldn't wait to come over and eat the cake I baked. Ugh. So, I tossed the bakery box in with the cake I'd baked and presented the faked-baked-cake as my own.

Now, this is not such a terrible thing to do, obviously - I've done way worse things than this to hubs over the years, but George has gone on and on about this cake for decades - I swear to God he married me because he thought I would bake a cake like this faked-baked-cake everyday for the rest of his life (poor guy). This morning when I asked what kind of cake he wanted for his birthday his eyes sort of glazed over (this could be a dry eye thing - we are old now) and lamented, "remember that cake .....".

Our heroes, like everything else we see, are mirrors. We see ourselves in them and now that life is requiring us to go deeper we are not always liking what we are finding.

(like mistresses and performance enhancing drugs and drones and cake boxes hidden in garbage cans)

And whether we believe this go-deeper thing is a planetary cycle change where everything that isn't like our current vibration comes up to be looked at (like I do) or that this go-deeper thing is an internet, nothing can hide here anymore thing (like I do, too) - it doesn't matter - it only matters that we somehow, someway find the guts to be real.

Maybe we can't be right and learn something.

And yes, I'm going to confess to that faked-baked-cake or maybe just let hubs read this post. I think he might be as disappointed in me as the world is in Lance Armstrong. Marriage is not for sissies either.


lynn bowes said...

Ooooo, good post. I think in the last decade we have given our children superhero capes and pointed them toward that tall building and told them they could fly when, in fact, there actually were flyers and non-flyers and only the dedicated developed wings. Yep, good post.

Another thing - I once baked a pumpkin pie from a single small pumpkin that a boyfriend brought me. Once I chopped and baked and scraped that poor pumpkin, it yielded about 1/2cup pumpkin. He never knew that it was one pumpkin and one can Libby's. Best one he ever ate, he said.

Catherine Ivins said...

good point about the kids ... so many parents say I just want my kids to be happy when what they really mean is I don't want my kids to fail. That's funny about the pie - thank God for Libbys