What’s in YOUR box?

I’m not out to win friends today. Just so ya know. I’m fairly opinionated, and while I try to generally get along with everyone, this is MY blog, and I guess I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, because my opinions are sticking out everywhere today, like a bad case of bed head hair.

So here goes.

Lately, it seems like everyone is victim of something. Having an illness or “condition” seems to be the new cool thing. I myself am, at times, guilty of indulging in it. I suffer from Dyscalculia, which worsens depending on the day and my stress level. Dyscalculia is to numbers what dyslexia is to letters. In my world, a 6 and a 9 are the same thing. 7’s and 1’s are interchangeable depending on how they’re written, and 5’s and 2’s look so much like identical twins sometimes it’s hard to tell them apart.

My question is, why are we using these problems or conditions like a crutch? Why are we allowing these rocks in our box to limit us?

I wish we could focus on the positive, the “I CAN!” rather than the “I can’t.”

One of the neatest people I’ve ever met is in a wheelchair. He got there because of a really bad car accident. He is so multi-talented, I personally think the car wreck was the gods’ way of chucking a rock in his box to balance all the gifts he had been given in life. I don’t know if he would feel the same, as his joie-de-vivre is subdued compared to many, but I have RARELY (if ever) heard him say, “I can’t.” He seems to focus instead on what he CAN. He is an amazing illuminator and scribe, in fact, one time he fashioned a replication of the Book of Kells.

Page from the Book of Kells

He also is a world class archer, a very well known fletcher, he makes his own inks, he is a professionally trained chef… and that’s just what I know about him. When you meet him, the only time “I can’t” comes up is when he’s trying to get into a building with stairs. At which point, he’ll find a solution. I’ve seen him do it. It may be that he has to get out of his chair and scoot up the the stairs on his butt while someone else hoiks the chair up the stairs, but he FINDS A SOLUTION.

His being in a wheelchair is a HUGE rock in his box. But I rarely see it get to him. And in that respect, I hope I grow up to be like him someday.

I am lousy at math. I imagine most of it is because of the dyscalculia, but that’s kind of irrelevant. In a nutshell, it’s a BIG DAMN ROCK in my box. I’ve seen people get annoyed at me because of the length of time it takes me to figure out what a bill comes to (and that’s with a calculator!) While I could whine about it (and hey, sometimes I do), most of the time it’s just easier to make a joke about it. Like, “I am so glad you found some of my glass art that you like! Unfortunately, that talent came at the price of my ability to do math quickly, so bear with me here a minute while I figure out what the bill comes to…”

I personally think I got the lion’s share of the deal. My glass talent in exchange for the math rock in my box? That’s why the gods made accountants. After all, somebody better be doing my numbers who doesn’t confuse 6 and 9 on a regular basis. And that, I think, brings me back to my point. My box of rocks is nothing more than an inconvenience most days. I think of myself as a glass artist, first and foremost. And I think that’s as it should be.