Introvert’s Woe
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.comA thrill-seeker does not care about the myriad and bejeweled colors that decorated my backyard this morning as the orange sun sparkled awake. They don’t care that those Creation’s gemstones elicited an adventure in my mind of epic size- an adventure I would happily carry to completion, if ever one could, in my own mind, even if it took the rest of my life. But, you know, the rest of one’s life could never be enough for such an undertaking- ha! a laughable thought!- could never last long enough to catch the emotional adventure derived from each passing inspiration. There are many. They are infinite!
And the awful truth is, an introvert must choose only a few of these delights to think about, to chew on, to drink in. What then? Once the thought has been chosen, there are infinite paths from there: point of view, should I carry it further? Create something with it? Talk about it? Draw, write, color, paint, sew it? Discard it completely? Merely take it to prayer?
And in the midst of this whirl of emotion and decision making that takes place in an instant, comes life. The phone rings, your child laughs, someone needs something, the alarm goes off. You know, life. And that abruptly ends something that could have been beautiful, eternal. It is dropped there and forgotten, or perhaps picked up again, if memorable enough, in an early morning while life is still quiet enough for contemplation. Then the sparkling sun comes up again, and the whole process starts over: fresh ideas, fresh emotions, fresh realization that there may be infinite inspiration, infinite expression, but a pitifully finite amount of time to unpack and work them out, and a pitifully finite amount of those who would understand or care for such things.
