Spinning Wheels

Sometimes, I think that routine more than fear of change is what keeps people on the same spinning wheel.

I’ve been thinking about that recently and dug back in the old memory archives for something that would give me a visual of this thought. I finally found the one memory that allowed me to play this out; with what resolution I am not sure, but something must be decided.

Growing up a few of my friends had hamsters and a couple of them had the spinning wheel in the cage. I remember sitting on my friend Hope’s bed watching her hamster Ben running and spinning the wheel and thinking, after I got over the fascination of it, that it looked kind of dull and definitely tiring.

Hope added a few other “fun” things for the hamster to do but after an awful lot of sniffing and running back and forth, Ben would always go back to the spinning wheel. Why? Was it was easy and he didn’t have to learn anything new or maybe because the new “fun” toys really weren’t that much fun? Hope did spend a lot of time trying to get him to try the new things and even took the wheel out of the cage. Ben sat like a lump until the wheel was returned.

Perhaps her rewards system was weak or maybe Ben was just a creature of habit. I do know that there are a lot of “hamsters” aka people out there on the old spinning wheel and I wonder what keeps them there. Is it routine or fear or is routine fear?

It is a question without a clear answer today because I am mulling over my own routines and feeling rather snarly about them at the moment. Why? Because, I have some routines that aren’t leading me anywhere yet I find them comforting. I stood looking out the window, sipping a cup of tea and thinking, “hmmm, this isn’t going anywhere and I think I am wasting time, big time, and that is not good”.

So for today, routine is on my mind and I need to make some hard, fast decisions about these routines because I “fear” they have me on a spinning wheel and I have never liked things that spun.

Whitney

I always say that I am not really interested in what goes on in the lives of celebrities and people that are not in my immediate circle.

Well, Whitney Houston died yesterday afternoon and I had to re-evaluate my thoughts about my interest in people; mainly people who populate our airwaves and screens and how their existence plays an important role in my life.

Reading the thoughts of people posting on Facebook yesterday was enlightening as most offered prayers and expressed sadness at her early demise. Others had harsher commentary and it seemed thought she got what she deserved as a substance abuser.

I am not an avid fan of Whitney; yet I do know her music and have danced to and lustily sang her songs. I have seen and enjoyed all of the movies she has been in and re-watched them on television. I have watched with sadness her descent into the hell that is addiction. I have cheered her on as she gamely tried to fight her way out of that hell. And…I have nodded knowingly as she would fall back into that pit.

I am not here to judge anyone; all of our journeys are individual, private and ultimately what defines us when we leave this crazy splendor called life. Even those who populate the public eye are working out a private journey; it is just one we can see played out on the big and now little screen. We are all watching each other’s private journey play out day to day. It is when we are open to the possibility that some of us will fall and may never get up that we learn tolerance. I cannot berate you for your weaknesses when I possess so many of my own.

Addiction. Fortunately for me, my biggest addiction seems to be the love of a pork chop. I know addiction first hand; growing up with an alcoholic mother and sibling. Addictions ravage not only the people living out that horror but everyone around them, in ways more numerous than I care to expand. Almost everyone I know has someone in their lives: immediate or extended who battle some type of addiction. It is our process, evaluation and determination of it that makes the difference.

The passing of Whitney gave me pause and allowed me to do some introspective work that I needed to do and here is what I have come up with from my midnight musings.

Simply this; Whitney had a beautiful voice and face. She was excellent to look at and to listen to and she made a difference. She made a difference in my life because she made me pause: pause when she was on top of the world and at its underbelly. A gift was shared, perhaps in a way that isn’t immediately clear to all of us looking in at this short span of life. Whitney could have gone underground when her world was unraveling but she stayed where we could see her and perhaps that is the gift she left us; a reminder of what can and cannot be, what should and should not be and what is and was.

Understanding is what is key as we wish her farewell. Understanding of a life lived perhaps not the way we would but one that affected some of us anyway. We pay homage to her by listening to her music and perhaps reliving a memory her melody brings to mind because more than anything Whitney evoked emotion and that is a true testament to life.

I hope that many, many, many years from now when I leave this amazing globe I’m remembered for good things done or said and that the not-so-nice things are either a lesson or reminder to those who care to take a moment to remember me.

Rest in Peace Whitney, may your spirit find a new home that keeps you smiling and singing.