Not so Soft

Although I've never been to the Grand Canyon in Arizona, I have been to Waiamea Canyon in Hawaii, often billed as the Grand Canyon of the Pacific.  Similar to the Grand Canyon, it is awe inspiring; beautiful, with amazing deep colors and impossible depths.  It is a terrific example of Mother Nature smoothing out the rough edges of the world as time flows by. 

I sometimes wonder if it's just a cruel joke that she didn't do the same to us - or to me, anyway.  Oh, I'm not talking about the transition of nice baby-butt smooth skin to the wrinkles and imperfections we develop physically over time; those are often evidence of a life well lived, and my laugh lines and gray hair are well earned, thankyouverymuch.  But that's not really where I'm going with this. 

I sort of feel like my edges get harsher as time goes on, not smoother.  My cynicism gets a bit deeper and harder to reign in, and the words that used to describe me don't cut it anymore.  I lose my patience faster than I used to, and I don't give the benefit of the doubt anywhere nearly as much as I should.  It's harder to find gentleness, and I occasionally forget that I have the ability to use tact, let alone actually use it as much as I should.

I hadn't realized how uncomfortable some simple words and/or concepts make me until I read several of them together in a book excerpt the other day.  The sentence I read used all of the following words:  creative, touch-feely, grace, gratitude, love, creativity, and authenticity, among others (yes, it was one hell of a sentence).  I found myself recoiling almost viscerally, because most of those words are not part of my daily vocabulary.  Part of it is my job - law suits don't typically inspire any sort of touchy-feely emotions; they are mostly concerned with concrete terms and facts that are either known or not.  After a while, that kind of thinking becomes a habit.  But that doesn't mean that those concepts are something I should ignore in my personal life. 

The terms above and other similar words, when taken individually, don't bother me; most of them are things I would like more of in my life.  But taken together all at once, they kind of gave me the willies.  Not sure what that says about me, but I'd say it's pretty clear evidence that Mother Nature's erosional ways do not affect me the same as they affect a limestone canyon.  Or maybe it's exactly the same, only I'm looking at it wrong.  Perhaps she wears away only the softness and leaves behind the harsher traits.  If that's the case, I'm probably screwed.