terrypetersen

Every human being’s essential nature is perfect and faultless, but after years of immersion in the world we easily forget our roots and take on a counterfeit nature. (Lao-Tzu, philosopher 6th century BCE) 

A fellow writer and very successful blogger avoids the word, thing, as if it belonged in the bottom of the pit of grammatical horrors. He’s right; ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time another word gives a better description. That doesn’t stop me from saying, “I’m not that interested in “things.” Most people understand what I mean. My second-hand furniture and ’97 Toyota with enough dents to belong in a demolition derby, are adequate for my needs. I don’t require designer clothing to feel okay inside.

Interior satisfaction costs far more than any expensive object. It means tearing up the me-schedule. It means listening instead of talking. Waiting instead of hurrying. It means abdicating the center of the universe position.

Interior peace comes with patience, with recognizing beauty in places that aren’t obvious. A good friend tells the story of her daughter when she was in kindergarten. “Mommy, my teacher is so beautiful!” But when the friend met the teacher she saw a woman with incredibly plain features. Not until the woman spoke and her eyes sparkled with love and enthusiasm, did my friend see what her daughter had experienced—true and deep beauty.

I feel that brilliance in the person of my three-year-old granddaughter, Ella. She has physical attractiveness, almost white hair, saucer-sized blue eyes. But Down syndrome has delayed her development. She sounds out words phonetically, gets excited about the magnetic letters on our refrigerator, yet has never said more than two words together. And those moments have been rare. Yet, she understands and responds with a love few adults have mastered.

I learn from her more than she learns from me. I would have to give up a lot of pride to even consider touching her level of acceptance, her innate wisdom.

Perhaps that is part of the reason why I renounce “things” in such a general way. No one noun covers the entire experience. The world isn’t clear enough to me yet, everything that I need, everything I don’t.

I require further lessons from less complicated folk.