String Of Pearls

String Of Pearls?

On my way home from the support group the other day, I was trying hard not think about group. The Forrest Gump line about life being like a box of chocolates quickly came to mind. It made me smile as it always does. More so because I picture him sitting on the bench in suit and tie and that really bad haircut. And a lesson I’d learnt so many lessons ago hit me again. You know what I mean by that? It’s like when you spend a lot of time at a web site and you hit the refresh button. The page updates only ever slightly but becomes ever more relevant. What Forrest said is true, but it doesn’t go far enough. None of us choose the hand we are dealt. None of us inside the clinic room and none of those outside of it. The hand we are dealt is the only hand with which we can play. I began thinking about my hand and how I was playing. If I would win – if I could win. And then I saw it. It was huge and coming fast from nowhere. A bloody great semi had me in its sights. My reflexes outran my mind and I found myself in my rightful lane once more. Over the palpitations and through the adrenalin haze – I realised afresh, that it’s not about winning – it’s about staying in the game. Playing the cards I have rather than longing for the cards I don’t. That thought was as welcome as a pin to a balloon. We are raised to win. If not by our parents then by the society in which we live. Daily we are bombarded with sentiments like, ‘There’s no second place.’ From the morning TV shows to the magazines in waiting rooms. From radio talk shows to the breakfast cereal box. We cannot escape it and yet sometimes our sanity depends upon this escape.

After my close encounter of the ‘semi’ kind, I wondered what another would see if they looked at my life. If they would find anything of value there – anything at all. After a little cognitive ballet I concluded that I would like anyone who looked, to find in my life, a string of pearls. Pearls are boring – well, I find them boring. I’d much rather an emerald. So much more depth and character. Clarity and colour. But gemstones are as different from pearls in their formation, as they are in their appearance. Gemstones require high temperatures and constant pressure over time to form. Pearls just need one pissed off oyster. Pearls are formed when an uninvited grain of sand becomes trapped inside an oysters shell. He can’t dislodge it – so there it stays. It annoys him to distraction and irritates him to levels before unknown. I imagine it would be like walking with a permanent stone in your shoe. Or living with an illness in your life. And yet as angry as the oyster becomes – he does not stop living. Instead, he deals with the grain of sand. He identifies it and then he makes room in his shell for this unsolicited intruder. He coats it in an attempt to smooth off its sharp edges. And he repeats this process until there are no more edges to smooth. And the pearl is formed. The oyster never forgets the sand is there. Rather he acknowledges its presence, assigns it a place in his existence and begins the process of smoothing the bits which cause his distress. And when he is through. When he has gone to wherever it is that all oysters go – he leaves a gift for whomever takes the time to look. He offers them a pearl.

Why do we place such a high value on the things in nature which we believe unacceptable within ourselves?