PRAYER OF THE SELFISH CHILD
by Shel Silverstein
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
And if I die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my toys to break.
So none of the other kids can use ’em….
Amen.
“Egos trip, but humble doesn’t stumble, baby.” – Think Smarter (Twitter)
My husband and I stopped at a local “hole in the wall yesterday”, known mostly for its kooky-named craft beers. It was in an industrial park, was furnished with thrift store furniture, had only one, addicting, retro arcade game, only played vinyls on an old school record player, and until recently, was only open on Sundays. And it was so cool.
I read about it, in an article written by a hesitant fan of the place. The writer was caught on the edge of the blade, that we have all been before, that edge of wanting to share with the world, something that you love and adore; something that is so unique and special and unfathomably undiscovered, wanting to give a shout-out to the creator of such an amazing thing, and yet shaking in fear, and prescient of the disappointment, of the other side of the sword. The other side is knowing that inevitably, your discovery’s amazing-ness will catch on, the item/restaurant/singer/band/foodstuff/TV show/vacation spot/store/blog (ahem) will become as immensely popular as it deserves to be, and the magic of the best-kept secret gemstone, will be lost to the masses, to the pretenders, to those who only appreciate that which is already “proven,” and thus your discovery’s novelty, rareness and sui generis will fade to the rank and file, putting you on yet another quest for the next, unexplored, uncharted, great thing.
I almost felt guilty going to the joint yesterday. Wonderful places, yet undiscovered, make you question whether you are worthy. I wanted the waiter to say, “It’s okay. You’re kinda old, but you are cool enough to be here, because you were brave enough to try.” This is probably how the first discoverers of the ancient Egyptian tombs felt. I am sure that the explorers to the new world, had to wonder if it might be better to keep their magnificent findings, to themselves and retrospectively, the native people would have probably been better off remaining undiscovered. Things tend to follow the same cycle of life, that we do. Nothing escapes it. New, fresh, undiscovered people, places and things, grow and peak and then start to decline to the archives, until some of the new, fresh, undiscovered people of the new times, rediscover the validity of the stunning archives, and the cycle starts all over again. It’s the cusp periods, on the edge of the blade, that have us all holding our breaths, watching that what we love and sometimes try to hide and hoard, about to enter its peak on the life cycle of its ultimate story and history.