Ejection Does Not Equal Rejection
Life crashes suck, but maybe they're just a sign that you're in the wrong car.
Note: Don’t like reading? The Podcast audio is at the end of the story.🫡
You are at the wheel. The sun is shining brightly as you motor on down this road, a road that you turned onto as soon as you saw that Vista Point sign. Taking a deep breath as the scenery whizzes by, you inhale the aroma of another glorious day on planet Earth. It’s a bona fide Soul Bliss Sandwich scent, served up on a “How’d I get to be so gosh-darn lucky?” platter.
The car you’re driving has its foibles and quirks, sure—some weirdness, married with an occasional unidentified thud coming from the gearbox—but you’ve learned to maneuver this beast with some not-inconsiderable skill. You’re comfortable in it. Your seat is adjusted to perfection, providing not only lumbar support but the ideal leg-to-pedal ratio for relaxed operation. Cabin temperature is optimal for alert driving. In this moment of Zen, you turn your head slightly to observe the world zooming by. Pretty. This is a nice drive. Hmmm… Those trees look a bit wishy-washy with motion blur. Hmmm…
“Am I going a smidge too fast?”
You shake off the sensation and turn back to the view out of the windshield. The GPS lady tells you what to do. “Take the next left,” she says, in her best I’d-never-steer-you-wrong voice. “In 200 ft. your destination is on the right.” No traffic jams in your way, no jack-hammering roadworks. It’s just you, the open road, and the reassuring tones of [insert your favorite band here] on the stereo, soundtracking your journey.
Hmmm… There it is again. The niggling sensation in your brain finds its voice.
“Am I headed in the right direction?”
You glance at the map on the dash and check. Yup. This is the path and the way. There is a slight hint of burning oil now. You crack a window, change gear, press lightly on the accelerator, and continue on. You love this car. It’s a wild ride, but you’ve always viewed yourself as a bit of a rodeo bull rider, even if others occasionally see you as the clown.
The crash comes out of nowhere and is completely beyond your control. This is no accident, this is a full-on smash-and-grab. The T-Bone you didn’t order is delivered to your table, all bloody and raw with emotion. Maybe you sensed this crash was coming or maybe it caught you completely off guard—it doesn’t really matter either way because you’re all up in the air now.
Unexpected, rejected, and ejected from the moving car. No airbags. No warnings. Just you, flying through the air clutching your personalized “RUH ROH!” vanity plates.
Your life is made of moments, and this is just one of them. There will be a hundred thoughts at this time, and you will feel each and every one as they rash up your skin and paint their tattoo quilt of bruises on your crumbling confidence. Your ego will be left bloody and your heart in shambles.
How did I not see that coming? Was it my fault? Maybe the music was too loud, or did I get too cocky on the wide-open streets of possibility? What if they take my license away? What if I’m actually not qualified and they never let me behind the wheel of a vehicle again? What if they’re right—what if I am a terrible driver?
Hey, stop it. You have to stick this landing. You have to. You may be injured and scarred. You may have to get stitches to hold yourself together as you work out what happened. You might have huge waves of self-doubt threatening to drown you but let me just tell you this for nothing:
Maybe the reason this crash happened was simply that you were just in the wrong vehicle.
After you’ve crashed is not the time to panic; it’s the time to find another mode of transport. Downsize, go off-road, take the train, start carpooling, upgrade your license, ride a bike, OMG just look at all the different vehicles you could get in. It’s not what you look like when you land, all beaten, bloody, and busted—and you will be beaten, bloody, and busted because you were just in a damn crash—it’s what you do with your landing.
When it happens, take the time to brush yourself off, assess the wreck and the smashed-up car, lick your wounds, and such, but know that it’s not the end of the road that you were on. You survived, and that’s the thing. It’s up to you to figure out how to keep on truckin’, or boatin’, or walkin’ tall, or whatever.
Not only will there be other, different, better, faster, and cooler rides for you to drive, but being ejected from this one might just be the best thing that ever happened to you. Because while you’re looking for that next ride you could stumble upon the one thing you were supposed to be doing all along. It might not be as cool as herding sheep, but it could end up being something that’s 100% yours to whistle and direct forever.
Yours in tiny thought,
Janeen
This week’s amends…
Consider this a kind of follow-up to my ramblings about Solitude in last week’s post. Chucky B gets it.
This is the B-side version of “Wave of Mutilation”, which to my ears is like a melancholic dream that I enjoy drifting away to. I mean, who doesn’t want to drive their car into the ocean sometimes? It’s a dark song for sure, but there’s just something about it that gets to me, particularly at this meandering pace.
“Vintage wheel charts and volvelles only, please. All others will be removed. Thanks!”
There is so much good shit in this Vintage Wheel Charts group pool. Love this kinda stuff.
Via Casual Archivist
If Y2k-Era Movie Theater Carpets Could Talk….they’d probably cry for help, right? J/k. Time to deep dive into the matted-up fibers of this insanity. A strangely fascinating read from A2A about the patterns, but also about the spirit of the 90s. Well, I found it fascinating but I do tend to gravitate toward quirky things.
Did any of this spark a tiny thought of your own?