On a popular blog a few years ago, a lady commented that she found Gen Conf boring.
My reaction was "WTF?"
Yes, it was an inappropriate reaction on so many levels.
My question to her: "Why are you bored?"
Answer: "Because I have heard the same msg over and over again since I was a kid."
My suggestion: "Why not try seeing it from someone else's perspective? It helps round out your view of the various principles. For example, if they are talking about repentance, try to pretend you are Jewish, Muslim, or maybe Buddhist and you are hearing this message for the first time. How would your perspective shift? What would your first, second, third reaction be?"
Answer: "But I'm not Jewish. I'm bored."
Sigh.
The conversation continued for too many messages and I got frustrated that some people prefer boredom over problem-solving. Ew.
I also realized that not everyone wants the multiple lenses. I love the lenses, always have.
Tonight's lens shift -- I'm running with Vee and Eee and I have the music blasting in my ears like the soundtrack to some awesome film. I can see Eee explaining something to Vee as they run. I see the crease in Eee's brow, then I see Vee mimic it. I see Eee's hands motion and I can tell by the gesture that he's probably explaining some concept based in mechanical engineering or possibly chemistry. Eee and Vee are completely enveloped in their mutual thought and since I have no sensory input from them other than the visual, my perception of their interaction is amplified. I can better see how they blend with each other without any voice to distract me. A shift in perspective, a different view of their relationship, and I am so grateful for the glimpse.
Then, later, as we're doing the long run home (a stretch of sidewalk past the scary woods part) I pull out in front and even though they are behind me, the moon is casting so that I can see their shadows on the ground in front of me. I feel like some sort of regal queen leading the way with my warriors flanking on both sides. I run faster. They do too. I pull onto the homestretch and sprint, but start to lose it on the last 50-60 feet. Vee sprints past me and motions, "Come on mom, you can do it." I can't actually hear what he's saying, but his motion is enough.
But I don't have it in me to keep going. I slow down.
Then the lyrics in my ears blast: "I just can't wake up." (Sum 41, "Chuck") Those of you who know me know how much I fought that during the tough years. Like the year when I needed 10-12 hrs of sleep a night every night. Like the day when I slept 20 hours out of 24. Yeah, I know what it's like to not be able to wake up. It feels like being under anesthesia while maintaining consciousness. You can hear everybody but you can't move. Your mind is awake and alive, but you can't do anything about it so your mind slowly starts to shut down. Fatigue bites.
"...just can't wake up." The energy surges because I know fatigue and this, my dears, is no where near real fatigue. I have been lax to not be more grateful for the lifting of it. I can push this supposed limit and I do. I caught up to Vee, again with my lungs stretching, cleansing. Man, that feels good.
It took a long time to walk it off.
A shift in perspective is a beautiful thing.
