Speaking of Spontaneous Combustion

I've heard that there are two kinds of people. There are people who live in fear and then there are people who live in curiosity, or pursuit of pleasure as I've heard it.  I'm not sure that's a fair way to divide up the world, really, because you can do that with anything. For instance, you can say the world is made up of two kinds of people - those who like ham and those who don't, or those who like the Three Stooges and those who don't (which would basically be the same thing as saying Men and Women I guess). For now, though, let's just focus on those who live in fear and those who don't.

As a child I had two big fears. One was of kudzu.  That insidious vine covers everything and my younger self was fearful that if I couldn't move fast enough while playing outside, some of it might trap me like it did those tall suffocated lumps of God knows what that you can see along the side of the road. I'd overheard enough adult conversation to know that stuff was unstoppable and probably the beginnings of a Japanese takeover. It turns living things into creepy, giant, ghosty looking things that reminded  me of my sister's wall hanging in her bedroom that said, "From ghoulies and ghosties and long leggity beasties, Dear Lord, deliver us." If there's anything that resembles a long-leggity beasty, it's a pine tree and power pole covered in kudzu. The roadside of 411 at dusk can still give me the shivers.

I think I was 8 when I first learned about the phenomenon called Spontaneous Human Combustion as an actual cause of DEATH! And there you were thinking my obit from last week where I said I went out in a blaze of glory was something new! I don't recall what television episode mentioned it - probably some That's Incredible! sort of show.  I remember thinking, "What sort of things must a person have been doing that could cause them to unexpectedly EXPLODE on the sofa or walking down the sidewalk???  And, more importantly, am I doing any of those things?" Panicked, I imagined that probably calm children who read lots and who didn't jump up and down much and certainly never ate POP ROCKS with soda were protected from spontaneous combustion but there was just so little information in the Encyclopedia Britannica that I figured it was possible for damn near anyone to ignite if they weren't careful (and maybe even if they were careful!).  You never know!!  The photos always showed some errant foot or handbag left behind in a charred mess.  It was horrible imagery and, even worse, the mystery always remained unexplained which lent credibility to my suspicion that it could happen to ME if things got too exciting.  Practicing piano seemed like a good way to avoid anything too sparky happening.

Childhood anxieties are one thing, but it turns out as you get older you find lots of other things to be afraid of in the world and they are real things and common too and before you know it, you (or I) are organizing your life around the avoidance of things rather than the enjoyment of them. Our family made a list at dinner and we are afraid collectively of the following: the IRS, snakes, balding, wardrobe malfunctions including, but not limited to showing up to an event without pants, drainage grates, getting fat, spiders, and various forms of impalement.  Those are nothing compared to what most of us mom's worry over though.  Without realizing it, I somehow managed to create a day where I was censoring almost everything I said and did in fear of offending someone, of being judged by anyone, of being rejected, of overlooking responsibilities, of failing somehow as a mother. In short, I wasn't having much fun at all and my day belonged to everyone else.  Therapist asked on our first visit what I enjoyed doing and I found there was very little to report.  

But sometimes, if you are open to it, something allows you take steps towards rebuilding your day into something likable.  A few months ago Olivia got a bug about doing some painting and we were on a school break and ended up making a corner of the new kitchen our craft area. Imagine poor Kenny's nerves! Acrylics on the countertops! We negotiated with brown paper for the sake of his blood pressure.

I've recently learned that I'm not the only person who harbors a long held fear of picking up a paint brush.  Now you all know, of course, that this is actually only an extension of the fear of trying something new and I refrained from a lot of the activity at first, but really what fun is that?? And you know I'm not kidding when I say it's not good to let your children smell your fear.  So, instead of worrying about perfection, and in the name of being a good example, I focused on the conversation that comes up when our hands are busy and just messed around with her.  I bought a little bird painting around that time and wondered if we could do one like that? And I discovered I can. AND I can do other little birds and bigger birds and birds who are alone and birds with their mamas, more birds, fewer birds, birds of different colors, birds that aren't really found in nature even, birds on wires, birds on branches, birds, birds, birds. Nothing to be afraid of there! No explosions, no suffocations, not even a palpitation of nerves, only the joy that comes with creating something.

They are not great paintings, by an artist's standards, probably, and a lot of them are destined for life in a closet, but I love them because they are evidence that I'm not afraid of trying something new. My paintings don't even have to be good. They are the product of exactly no training, something like 4 minutes of reading in the craft store (no purchase necessary!) and absolutely, most importantly, NO FEAR.  I love these birds because I tried something and the world didn't explode or tilt on it's axis and swallow me up with embarrassment.  I love them because they make me believe I can try something else that's new.  Maybe tomorrow I'll give painting something besides birds a try and then who knows? Maybe I'll tackle Pop Rocks.

For more info on Spontaneous Human Combustion, try this link  http://www.crystalinks.com/shc.html: but I warn you, it's gross.