09
Feb
10

A Buffer of Humour!

Someone told me a few days ago, that I had a layer of humour, or lightheartedness between me and the world. It was the first I’d heard of it, and it struck me as something I would expect to be told if I was forty and driving a station wagon. It sounded like something I would be told in a circumstance such as if my forty-year old self’s kid had just kicked him and he just laughed it off as an eight year old’s angst.

As it were, I was told this just last Thursday, if I remember correctly, and I was still only twenty, the last time I checked. It confounded me. So naturally I just went along with it and agreed wholeheartedly. When I got home that night, I got to thinking about this water-bed of fluff that I had between me, my mind, and the real world. I realized it didn’t exist. It was a myth. Like women who can’t cook.

What it is, is just my way of coping with life. I don’t put up a barrier reef between myself and the tides of problems, pain, anger, idiots and sheer complications that wash up on the coasts of my senses. Sometimes you just have to ignore it. I’ve got a story to tell today, if you’ll indulge me.

Imagine you’re an island. If that saying about no man being an island is a thorn in your side, imagine you’re a woman first, then imagine you’re an island. A small island, smaller than the country we live in, located somewhere in the middle of the ocean, replete with sandy beaches and palm trees. Now imagine life as a great big storm brewing out at sea. Swirling, tearing through the air making sea creatures exclaim in surprise for miles and miles. You can imagine their cries of “Goodness me, that could put a dent in our plans for camping out this weekend” if you please. But you’d better not, since that would distract you a bit from the big picture. The big, gray, spinning mass of clouds that make up your big picture.

Now, you’re an island. Most storms wouldn’t matter much to you. You’ll survive. A few trees torn up, and a couple of television serial actors lost, but nothing you can’t grow back or work into the storyline. Eventually the storm subsides and life goes back to being the calm, rolling mass of water in front of you. Little ebbs and flows this way and that along your coasts, leaving your lips all salty and dry. The storm, having raised hell and then having smashed it down on the ground again, has left only scattered bits of debris around for you to pick at and inspect. The strips of seaweed torn up from the ocean bed and thrown at your feet are occasionally interrupted by bits of a ship, or pieces of wood. Sometimes you find a coconut.

Life doesn’t give you lemons, it gives you coconuts. Lots of coconuts. All the little odds and ends you find on the beach are covered in sand, your sand. They’re you flavoured now. All the things life throws at you are changed the moment you perceive them shooting towards you. You coat them in a nice even layer of yourself. Making it oh so easy to just pick it up, look at it, and if it’s not of any interest, throw it away. If you see something shining in the distance, a little piece of ship that washed up on your shores, some little bit of someone else’s life that you find interesting, pick it up. Take a nice long look at it and think about it. Lick it. Gnaw on it for a bit, testing your teeth on it like when you were a kid. Take it in and do something with it. Maybe write a post about it.

Everything else, the corroded bits of hull, the swollen bodies of sailors staring at you with their legs buried in your sand, the birds picking at them one by one, every single detail that comes across as not something to worry an island over, just let it be. The water will eventually come over and drag it all away again. Feel every rusted slab of metal tear at your shores, every bit of wood getting stuck on the roots of trees at the edges of your sands and hear all the little noises they all make. Then just make a note of it and keep looking along the beach till you find something interesting to gnaw on.

If islands gnaw on things, that is. Selectivity is the key here, and an island that chooses right is an island which gets called out for having a buffer of humour between it and the sea. Choosing what matters is not difficult. Living isn’t difficult. Being an island isn’t difficult. Just be aware that all the places on your shores that were ravaged by the storm will heal, and that everything that turns up should be dealt with. Most importantly, dealing with something doesn’t necessarily mean doing something to it.

Well, at least that’s how my brain works. I just refuse to acknowledge any unsavory vibes happening around me, and just deal with what I have to. It might not seem like the best way to live a life, but somehow, it works for me. Just look at my blog.

Advertisements

10 Responses to “A Buffer of Humour!”


  1. February 9, 2010 at 1:59 pm

    I like this post very much. “Most importantly, dealing with something doesn’t necessarily mean doing something to it” . specially that bit. 🙂

    • February 13, 2010 at 4:37 pm

      @MC, PR, sabby, dili and chavie
      Thank ye, glad to know it doesn’t sound boring 😀

      @dee
      how come even _I_ can’t remember this? :p

      @delilah
      I wish it was thambili

      @whacko
      yes, wonder who said that :p

      @black rose
      thanks!

  2. February 9, 2010 at 2:10 pm

    I think it’s a perfect way to live a life 🙂

  3. February 9, 2010 at 2:16 pm

    What PR said.

    If only I could gnaw at the important things that washes up on my shores.
    Would make my life easier!

  4. 6 Chavie
    February 9, 2010 at 7:59 pm

    awesome post… my philosophy is similar I guess (I have no idea really! lol) 😀

  5. 7 Dee
    February 9, 2010 at 9:19 pm

    i totally noticed this. when i was having this huge fight on religion sometime back, everyone was geting hot under the collar and u just left a random funny nonsensical comment 🙂 Good on u jerrz

  6. 8 Delilah
    February 10, 2010 at 10:13 am

    which is why we laaaove you 🙂
    and yes life does give you coconuts sometimes.

  7. 9 Whacko
    February 10, 2010 at 8:36 pm

    What a wise an insightful observation:p

  8. February 10, 2010 at 9:56 pm

    Dude, this was awesome… I agree with what MC, PR and Sabby said.

    Cheers


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s




%d bloggers like this: