Pobrecito (Poor Baby)

It was about the third inning when my son and I realized we were at the same ballgame but on opposite sides of the stadium. After I told him what section I was in, he sent me this picture.

The first thing I thought when I saw it was – why is my hair so flat? That’s how self-absorbed I am.

I am in a period of incessant introspection or, as some would call it, having my head up my ass. I am thinking about what I am thinking about all of the time. It’s oppressive and stifling. I need to shake it off.

Yesterday, I drove over the Hoan Bridge with the top down on my car and I sang You Are My Sunshine as loud as I could. That helped.

Today, I listened to critiques of an essay I’d written offered by members of the writing workshop I attend. The best one was a look actually, a wee bit of eye rolling, from a senior writer whose work is always very clear and purposeful. The look was in response to a paragraph that I knew was self-absorbed and precious but only after I read it aloud to the group. Oh please, I could hear her thinking. Give me a break. That helped.

Yoga yesterday helped. The teacher began by telling us she had broken her back over the weekend. This was not hyperbole. She had broken two vertebrae. It was a disarming start to the session and snapped me out of my introspection and weariness for a while. But I richoted back as soon as I got in the car.

So I think this photograph is saying something to me – beyond the condition of my hair. It’s saying – you’re but one head among hundreds. Get over yourself. Easier said than done, I say.

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