Monday, January 9, 2012
What does it mean to know someone? What exactly do you need to know? (not rhetorical, please answer with a long list of particulars)
I love asking questions.
I'm almost positive everyone craves to be "truly" known. Known completely and loved anyway- for the troubled and the beautiful bits of our souls.
Granted, it takes a good deal of courage to be real and open.
To be open to being known.
I quite enjoy having a discussion filled with an assortment of unusual "get to know you" questions. For me, hearing the answers to these questions show me the innards of a person. (Even more interesting is that it shows the person answering their own innards- more on this idea another day)
Everyone has a story to tell. People are fascinating.
The process of answering illuminates.
You know me as well as anyone.
You know my views on religion, my schooling method, my parenting gurus, the content of the somewhat inappropriate, silly skit Megan and I did together at our last family reunion, and the colour of my living room area rug. And I know similar things about you.
Something I don't know about you?
I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours...And in the interest of this post I will go first. (defeats the purpose of the "if you..." I realize)
It came to me last night while washing the dishes no one else had the stamina to face (the muffin tin, the mixing bowl, the jug that was taken to the park for yesterdays rocket launch).
I am afraid of the moment when I plug in the vacuum.
It stems from a childhood trauma- someone pulling the cord from the wall instead of pressing the power button- resulting in a spark and a suddenly alive vacuum.
Turns one off of vacuuming permanently.
Aside from the vacuum, I think I am also afraid of the power of my choices. You know the ones I mean. If I choose to be flippant or let my grumpiness reign, if I entertain a bad mood, everyone follows my lead.
I create the weather in this home.
I gather the family and provide a center for them to spin from.
And that kinda freaks me out.