Like This

Inspired by recent “Likes” to some of the Archive posts, I’ve been contemplating this affirming cyber-gesture.  I like it.

What a quick way, with a simple click, that we can offer our fellow humans a little gold star.  Our stamp of approval.  A virtual version of an agreeable nod.

It’s got me considering ways that I can incorporate this small, supportive signal into real life.  What would be an equivalent of ‘liking’ something in 3D?

A tried and true sign would be the old-fashioned smile.  But for too long this one has become stale from politeness and not always a genuine indication of authentic sentiments.

There is the friendly, and sometimes coquettish, wink.  This one can border between like and lust, depending on the giver.

And of course, there is the standard ‘thumbs up’, that hand gesture that signals an A-Ok.  Not really used much in casual social interactions, employing the random thumbs-to-the-sky could result in responses more puzzled than pleased.

Beyond walking through town with a pocketful of stars and distributing them among your favorite strangers, is there a way we can perpetuate the support that comes with the internet Like button?  Some small way that we can give each other that little extra boost that says “Yes!  Keep going.  I like what you’re doing.”  What a different world it would be if we moved throughout our days giving and receiving these encouraging lifts.

For now, I’ll gather my cyber-likes, fill up, and then pass them around.

Virtually, I’ll keep clicking the like button whenever I’m inspired.

In real life…be on the Liking Lookout and show my pleasure through a plethora of third-dimensional options.  A word, a look, a gesture.

I think liking this!

Barometer Reading

Seasons change subtly in the tropics.  The past three mornings have had the slightest chill in the air, a harbinger for autumn, my favorite time of year.

New weather brings fresh perspectives, as my windows to the world reflect the shift in temperature.

courtesy of Shandi-lee

Have a Seat

Closing the wisdom tooth chapter once and for all, I’ve been reflecting on how the dental assistants got a laugh out of me.

Of course it was the young, handsome man that came for me with the wheelchair.

“Have a seat”. He smiled. “We have to take you out this way.”

I was just fresh from anesthesia, as he rolled me and my chipmunk cheeks, chock full of gauze, drool probably still pooling at the corner of my mouth. In my haze, I tried to hold some semblance of composure. I suppose it’s telling to note that despite grogginess and teeth extraction, the biceps steering my convalescent body had not gone unnoticed.

Since I looked like hell, I think I attempted humor on our way out to the parking lot. Mumbling something dumb through numb lips. Something about him avoiding bumps in the concrete in hopes of getting a good tip.

I think he thought we were pretty funny, my driver and I, as he brought us to her dusty pick up. The “Who’s your farmer?” bumper sticker on the back window, just above a truck bed full breadfruit, oranges and scattered garden tools. I scooted the pruners out of the passenger seat and eased myself into the truck.

He’s smiling. “Yeah, you asked us when you were under if we were sure we were pulling the right tooth.”

I know I’m keen to the double-check. But that takes it to a whole new level.

It’s been days since the procedure. The handsome dental assistant’s smile has faded from my memory, it’s true. But I can’t keep from mulling over the fact that even under anesthesia, I was making sure everything was in order.

Part of me can’t decide if this is such a bad thing. It’s a characteristic that can help me to be an effective person.

But another part of me has got to wonder. Is there no time, no chemical compound strong enough, in which I can just completely let go?

I wrote about the laughing gas enlightenment. That silly smile lasted all of 45 seconds, though it was a beautiful 45 seconds.

Maybe I can grasp some small, non-nitrous-induced moments of surrender throughout today.

But do I ever just totally let go? Do any of us? If so, when? How?

My wisdom teeth are no longer in my mouth, but maybe now I’m receiving a transmission of their sage essence. Questions to ponder. Insight to be gained.

courtesty of srqpix