"I like it here," said the Trapeze Artist.
"You do know you're an uninvited guest," I reply.
"Uninvited guest, my foot. Or should I say my leg - short of hanging out a "Space to Let" sign, your house was screaming 'WELCOME'. At least, it was to me."
"Oh, Well!" I reply.
"Oh Well, what?" says the Trapeze Artist.
"Let me guess...as long as you stay out of my way? I can't promise you that. After all, I am a Trapeze Artist. An entertainer. Let me show you some of my acrobatic feats.
He continues...
"Now I glide. Now I soar. Now I climb. Now I drop.
I am surprised you aren't applauding. Let's see you do something like that. Acrobatics with Microsoft Excel, Centive and Xactly Incent do not count."
He continues...
"I can totally tell your Disneyland type. It's Fantasyland all the way. It's a Small World. Mr Toad's Wild Ride. Peter Pan's Flight. Am I wrong?"
"That's amazing - how could you tell?", I stammer.
"It's my hobby, you know. I do personality assessments on the side. I've developed a unique indicator called the Disneyland type indicator. It's much more helpful than Myers-Briggs or any other Jungian indicator.
It tells you where you are. And where you want to go. What could be better?"
"I went on The Haunted Mansion ride last summer," I say in an attempt to recover some self-respect.
"Good for you. Together, we'll make a FrontierLand person out of you. Can't say I can do that for your teenage daughter, though. She shrieks every time she sees me. What's with that?"
"My daughter's actually braver than me when it comes to rides," I reply. "But you are right, she's terrified of you. So are most people. In fact, I think the majority of folks would be surprised that I am cohabiting with you."
"Oh, those Martha Stewart types," he says, "Witches with Brooms is what I call them. The reason I am so comfortable here is that you are not one of those types."
And I know that on the face of it, that appears to be an insult. But you are great just the way you are."
I try to get in a word edgeways, but he won't let me...
"Mind you, I say this not because I want to continue to live in your house.
But so you can set an example for others to realize we are all creatures of this beautiful planet called earth and are designed to share the same spaces.
Mercifully, he gets tired...
"I probably need to rest a while. I have restless leg syndrome. And that's not an easy thing to have with my busy legs and all."
He has a few final words...
"But before you go back to that Xactly Incent implementation or whatever else that was soooo important that you were doing, I want to leave you with this parting thought. Do you know that the building you are living in will probably not be around 100 years from now? There are very few buildings that will still be standing a century later - no matter how dear they are to anyone.
So if you want to leave a meaningful legacy, what is one of the best things you can do, tell me?"
"What?" I ask, expectantly.
"Plant a tree. Any tree. A shade tree. An oak tree. A walnut tree. A maple tree. A lemon tree. An olive tree. Any tree. Leave a legacy that will benefit future generations for years and years to come."
And with that, my conversation with the eight legged arachnid commonly known as the house spider whom I live with (shhh....don't tell him I called him that - he thinks he is a Trapeze Artist) ends.
P.S. This post was inspired by Raphael Cushnir's book "Setting Your Heart on Fire". In the chapter titled Reframe the Mundane, Cushnir suggests what to do should one spy a stray spider web while housecleaning. He says rather than regarding it as a nuisance, we might use the moment to think about what it's like to be a spider --"spending most of your time suspended in mid-air, gliding from place to place on a self-made trapeze." Cushnir's charming trapeze analogy sparked this post.
Thank you Cushnir. I hope others will read your book and get inspired.
After they plant a tree for posterity, that is!
"You do know you're an uninvited guest," I reply.
"Uninvited guest, my foot. Or should I say my leg - short of hanging out a "Space to Let" sign, your house was screaming 'WELCOME'. At least, it was to me."
"Oh, Well!" I reply.
"Oh Well, what?" says the Trapeze Artist.
"Let me guess...as long as you stay out of my way? I can't promise you that. After all, I am a Trapeze Artist. An entertainer. Let me show you some of my acrobatic feats.
He continues...
"Now I glide. Now I soar. Now I climb. Now I drop.
I am surprised you aren't applauding. Let's see you do something like that. Acrobatics with Microsoft Excel, Centive and Xactly Incent do not count."
He continues...
 |
| Photo Courtesy: Tanita Jha |
"That's amazing - how could you tell?", I stammer.
"It's my hobby, you know. I do personality assessments on the side. I've developed a unique indicator called the Disneyland type indicator. It's much more helpful than Myers-Briggs or any other Jungian indicator.
It tells you where you are. And where you want to go. What could be better?"
"I went on The Haunted Mansion ride last summer," I say in an attempt to recover some self-respect.
"Good for you. Together, we'll make a FrontierLand person out of you. Can't say I can do that for your teenage daughter, though. She shrieks every time she sees me. What's with that?"
"My daughter's actually braver than me when it comes to rides," I reply. "But you are right, she's terrified of you. So are most people. In fact, I think the majority of folks would be surprised that I am cohabiting with you."
"Oh, those Martha Stewart types," he says, "Witches with Brooms is what I call them. The reason I am so comfortable here is that you are not one of those types."
And I know that on the face of it, that appears to be an insult. But you are great just the way you are."
I try to get in a word edgeways, but he won't let me...
"Mind you, I say this not because I want to continue to live in your house.
But so you can set an example for others to realize we are all creatures of this beautiful planet called earth and are designed to share the same spaces.
Mercifully, he gets tired...
"I probably need to rest a while. I have restless leg syndrome. And that's not an easy thing to have with my busy legs and all."
He has a few final words...
"But before you go back to that Xactly Incent implementation or whatever else that was soooo important that you were doing, I want to leave you with this parting thought. Do you know that the building you are living in will probably not be around 100 years from now? There are very few buildings that will still be standing a century later - no matter how dear they are to anyone.
So if you want to leave a meaningful legacy, what is one of the best things you can do, tell me?"
"What?" I ask, expectantly.
"Plant a tree. Any tree. A shade tree. An oak tree. A walnut tree. A maple tree. A lemon tree. An olive tree. Any tree. Leave a legacy that will benefit future generations for years and years to come."
And with that, my conversation with the eight legged arachnid commonly known as the house spider whom I live with (shhh....don't tell him I called him that - he thinks he is a Trapeze Artist) ends.
P.S. This post was inspired by Raphael Cushnir's book "Setting Your Heart on Fire". In the chapter titled Reframe the Mundane, Cushnir suggests what to do should one spy a stray spider web while housecleaning. He says rather than regarding it as a nuisance, we might use the moment to think about what it's like to be a spider --"spending most of your time suspended in mid-air, gliding from place to place on a self-made trapeze." Cushnir's charming trapeze analogy sparked this post.
Thank you Cushnir. I hope others will read your book and get inspired.
After they plant a tree for posterity, that is!
No comments:
Post a Comment