You see, the true trick is not to get sick of yourself. That may be the thing we were put on earth to accomplish (because once we can see ourselves, really see ourselves, every day, then we can get onto the real business at hand, like honoring the earth, honoring each other...).
I thought about this over the holiday weekend. I love to watch people--which can be a wonderfully compassionate pastime, or a self-serving instrument of torture, depending on mood.
At a few points, it was the latter.
But then I wandered into a shop in my town, and the owner was so wonderfully charming that we ended up talking for quite a while. Finally, she stood back and looked at me, waving her hand in a circle to indicate my head and shoulders, "I love this," she said. "The hat, the hair--it's perfect."
It was like a gut-punch with a rainbow-bedazzled boxing glove. And it was exactly what I needed. You see *she* wasn't sick of me; *I* was sick of me. I was vanilla pudding *again* in a world feasting on crème brûlée.
But now I got to be crème brûlée, too. And all because I stepped out of my own footprints.