I was born in 18 minutes. or so the story goes. my parents were on their way to the doctor’s office when my mom’s water broke and they redirected to the hospital. My mom says the nurses were basically ripping her clothes off as they wheeled her into the delivery room where I promptly popped out.
As a young girl, my mom would have me run into the store because she knew I’d be in and out with exactly what was necessary. No one else could quite be counted on to keep focus, to discern details, and exit the store with mission complete.
I was in a rush most of my life, and I still struggle, wondering why i think i need to “make that light.” i’m often running late, so the rush was a function of that for a long time. Anyone who has known me can see that my relationship with time is not normal, both to the positive and the negative.
Perhaps its no surprise, then, that my body just called a time out. in an attempt to get things situated, get my poop in a group you might say. probably not. you probably have more tact than that.
I, however, could not be more surprised. and, i know this is weird, but delighted. i was on a wobbly road. all the things i was rushing for, trying to get done, trying to prove, trying to bring into the world – they were all effects. i was running around chasing effects with about a 50% success rate which was enough to make me think i was getting somewhere (eventually).
This slowing down business? It really was my face of glory . It really is. I am going to cheat today and just send you to my favorite face of glory synopsis instead of writing it:
Wow. Hi. Back from the internet. I just learned about the actual face of glory – Kirtimukha, which is the story of the disembodied head at the entrace to many temples. worth a read:
Kirtimukha – The Face of Glory
But, now back to slowing down and my previously considered ‘face of glory’ which i understood to mean the most abhorent thing – the one thing i just couldn’t do… Ok, so not seeing that story (the one I read and enjoyed is from Eric Klein at Wisdom Heart, but he also called it the face of glory, which i now sortof can’t call it anymore, so i’m on the fence. anyhow…)
A baby tiger was orphaned and found its way to a flock of sheep. Because he was a baby, he wasn’t a threat to the sheep and they welcomed him into the herd. He grew up doing sheepy things, eating grass, sortof bouncing when he runs, doing what the shepherd said, and baaing.
One day, a hungry tiger spies a flock of sheep and sees the adolescent tiger amidst the wool. He walks over and goes “WTF?” to which the adolescent tiger replies, “baa.”
He takes the younger tiger by the neck and carries him to the side of a pond. “Look at your reflection!” he commands the young tiger, “you look like me!”
the young tiger responds, “baa”
Incredibly frustrated, the tiger snags a sheep and kills it, freaking the young tiger out mightily. He comes to the adolescent tiger and drags him to the fresh meat, with the young tiger being all “cat who doesn’t want to go somewhere” resisting (those of you who have tried to put cats in a travel cage know what i mean).
The blood touches the young tigers mouth and he goes, “ROAR!”
That which is most unthinkable to you may just be that which brings you alive.
For the tiger, it was the taste of blood over grass.
For me, it is slowing down.