You are like that guy in that joke that drowns after refusing two boats that God sent him.
I am like that guy that brought that non-indigenous animal to that island to kill that other animal.
You keep walking past that book that I gave you.
I keep thinking I should write a book that will give everyone the answer.
And you keep missing that talk
Or that part of that movie
Or that beautiful circumstance
That has the perfect message that seems to be just what you need to hear.
You MISSED it. It would have CHANGED YOUR LIFE.
I keep missing it, too, because I keep thinking about what you missed.
My advice. Forgotten.
My offers. Unanswered.
My gifts. Unopened.
Wait. What’s that you say? You never asked for… what?
And why can’t you just listen to me?
You ALWAYS want it to be a certain way.
“You are gonna make a mess, missy,” I say.
“And if you don’t do that thing, you’ll be making it even worse.”
(I would be the BEST 50’s TV dad ever.)
You keep saying that saying that I keep acting like I know everything. Whatever!
Ok. Yeah. You get the point.
What do I know?
But
What DO I know?
True.
I keep messing things up.
But your message has been getting through a little.
I’m slightly less controlling, needy, insecure, righteous, pig headed, wrong.
What about mine?
Are you still saying things like,
“That asshole never unconditionally loved me.”
Or “Happy. Happy. I am only going to be happy.”
Or “I can’t understand my deepest wounds can’t be healed with a simple plan that involves just me and is on my timetable.”
I mean seriously.
It’s simple.
For both of us.
And I know.
That whole big, unknown place.
Super scary for both of us.
But, scary, shmary.
You jump on one of those boats. (Without me mentioning it, of course.)
And I’ll shut up.
Copyright 2009 John Shapiro
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YOU AND I: The Boat and The Mouth
You are like that guy in that joke that drowns after refusing two boats that God sent him.
I am like that guy that brought that non-indigenous animal to that island to kill that other animal.
You keep walking past that book that I gave you.
I keep thinking I should write a book that will give everyone the answer.
And you keep missing that talk
Or that part of that movie
Or that beautiful circumstance
That has the perfect message that seems to be just what you need to hear.
You MISSED it. It would have CHANGED YOUR LIFE.
I keep missing it, too, because I keep thinking about what you missed.
My advice. Forgotten.
My offers. Unanswered.
My gifts. Unopened.
Wait. What’s that you say? You never asked for… what?
And why can’t you just listen to me?
You ALWAYS want it to be a certain way.
“You are gonna make a mess, missy,” I say.
“And if you don’t do that thing, you’ll be making it even worse.”
(I would be the BEST 50’s TV dad ever.)
You keep saying that saying that I keep acting like I know everything. Whatever!
Ok. Yeah. You get the point.
What do I know?
But
What DO I know?
True.
I keep messing things up.
But your message has been getting through a little.
I’m slightly less controlling, needy, insecure, righteous, pig headed, wrong.
What about mine?
Are you still saying things like,
“That asshole never unconditionally loved me.”
Or “Happy. Happy. I am only going to be happy.”
Or “I can’t understand my deepest wounds can’t be healed with a simple plan that involves just me and is on my timetable.”
I mean seriously.
It’s simple.
For both of us.
And I know.
That whole big, unknown place.
Super scary for both of us.
But, scary, shmary.
You jump on one of those boats. (Without me mentioning it, of course.)
And I’ll shut up.
Copyright 2009 John Shapiro