Monday, June 18, 2012

Life is Like a Box of Crayons

"A box of new crayons!  Now they're all pointy, lined up in order, bright and perfect.  Soon they'll be a bunch of ground down, rounded, indistinguishable stumps, missing their wrappers and smudged with other colors.  Sometimes life seems unbearably tragic. ~Bill Watterson

"My Childhood smells like a box of Crayola Crayons" (Terri Guillemets)  Yea, verily nothing compares to the magic of opening a Brand New Box of Crayolas.  If you doubt me on this, then I challenge you to stand up right now, march yourself over to your Super Center of Choice, and purchase a 16 count box of Crayons (24 count is better). As you open the top and stare down at those pretty bright colors all "lined up in order" just see if you can resist sitting down and scribbling away.  If you can, then I'll reimburse you. (well, probably not) There's something tantalizing about those neatly sharpened utensils.  No dull points.  No torn sleeves.  Perfection.  "Fresh with no mistakes" in them. Sometimes I wonder if our Psyches are similar to a fresh carton of crayolas.  In case what I mean isn't obvious, allow me to explain.  

When I was young, my mind resembled a brand new box of Crayons.  My Psyche was still innocent and unmarred.  Neatly ordered.  I felt no anxiety over the future.  No dread that the people I love might disappear.  Thus, without fear, I took my bright new crayolas and proceeded to scribble all over the page of my existence.  Lines be damned.  I used every color in my box.  But over time, like crayons, we become "ground down, rounded".  Our dreams and desires become "indistinguishable stumps, missing their wrappers, and smudged over with other colors."  With such undesirable decorating tools, we are less likely to draw ourselves a new adventure, life, or love.  Take me for instance, now that my crayons are all worn out its frightening to love other people, to hope for things, to think about the future.  I'm sure I'll do something wrong.  Make a mistake. I'll misstep and it will all vanish.  Those I care the most about will notice my broken pieces and torn wrappers.  They'll see that after nearly three decades of Life Lessons the coloring capability of my psyche has greatly diminished.  I am so much more work than a new box.  Why bother?  The truth is my broken and dull crayons don't upset me until I think about the people I adore.  I see their wonderful qualities, feel love for them, and ache to protect them.  But what kind of picture can I draw with ground down Crayolas?  I simply don't know.  Life would be so much easier if we could erase fear and scars the same way we replace old crayons.  Throw them out, go buy a new box with pretty bright colors and sharp points, and then redecorate our lives.  At the moment, I'm sorry to say that the crayon I was using to produce this post finally gave up the ghost so that's it for now.

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