I’m Not Ready!

A friend of mine, Kimberly Castleberry, skyped me the other day and  told me about this great project she was working on and asked if I’d be  interested in helping her out.

“Hell yea!”, I said out loud.

Then she said, “I need you to make a video of yourself today”.

“Oh shit!”….(I said- in my head.)

Not the dreaded video!

No, not yet, I’m not ready, crap! What in the name of all that’s good am I going to say? I’ve evaded this subject so well for so long I couldn’t believe it was now upon me, right ‘freaking-out’ now!

To Kimberly I simply said, “sure, I can get it done’.

I must be crazy!

What?…am I crazy?…I don’t know one thing about doing a video, I can’t even turn on the camera let alone download it to a PC, upload it on You tube, and then send it to where ever the hell it’s supposed to go!

A tripod…I don’t have a tripod…I have to find a way to prop that baby up.

OK…uhh… lighting! No, not this room, I’ll look like I’m eighty-seven under this glare. This corner has good lighting…no it’ll look like I’m sitting on a toilet.

Where’s that shirt I wore for the blog picture? Can’t find…maybe it’s in this…nope…dammit Cydney !  I know she has it somewhere under that heap in her room. (I use expletives with frequency when provoked by undue stress.)

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I have often stated that ‘Jane Eyre’ was my favorite classic; written by the controversial Charlotte Bronte.

Recently I asked myself why this was… so I took to reading it again, after these many years, to see what it was that was so compelling. Wow! Experience really is the teacher of all things!

As in my youth, I was struck once again by its beautifully constructed orchestration of purposely gathered words; a haunting melody woven within the soul of the beloved narrator, Jane.

Charlotte had a magically poignant way of making you feel what words can only suggest and point to…she entreats  you to experience the inner dwellings of her heroin. (Jane is forever an old friend in the reassess of my mind.)

Now that’s the power of words!

On closer inspection we realize that it is Charlotte that is our dear friend because it is her heart and mind that reaches across the pages and touches ours.

As I contemplate this soul wrenching tale, with it’s dreary delights, I often wish someone would change the script and allow our Jane just a modicum of kindness…but then it would not be the story that I love so well.  Like a part in a movie you’ve seen 20 times and wish just this once he wouldn’t miss that damned train! But, we must endure the long suffering to make the joy contrasting and therefor delicious.

( Blissful, continuously happy people are tiresome anyway, right?)

Our compassion is never provoked to endear them to us…because we know pain in our humanity and desire to be known and understood as such.

You must be wondering …so what is this ‘dilemma’ I’ve referred to?

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