a week of questions – Five
Here’s today’s question – Who wants to read a post from November of ’21?
Dredged up from the archives, cause yesterday I had something of a rebound connection with the agency about which this post was originally written. Here you are:
The Dignity of Risk
I don’t believe I’ve ever heard those three words put together, in that particular order. But I did this morning.
Oh, regarding Monday’s post, I guess I passed the collective eyes and ears of yesterday’s interviewees because the CEO lady called me late last night and said words to the effect of “Welcome aboard, Kid.” (I like it when people call me kid, there’s a youthful, invigorated fragrance to it, so I made that part up.) But the word “welcome” was real.
Which had me this morning immediately bounced into a just-happened-to-be-scheduled-today quarterly agency orientation for new employees (part two this Friday), and it was a trip to be back in a human service orientation, and I swear I could not have sat here and index-finger tapped out words on the keyboard which would have made my heart smile more than the ones I heard today. No finer dialogue. Just wonderful and kind, and shining the light of possibility and joy on the word “human.” And within the presentation were those three words – Dignity of Risk – on a slide in the Zoom and spoken by, call him, the Director man. And explained that there is great dignity in allowing folks, any someone, to try and reach for their stars, just theirs, the ones they cherish and some nights fall asleep to. The biggest ones. The going for it.
And I have to tell you – and regular readers of Couch Surfing at 70 already know – that doing things which feel right – honest to God, deep down, soul right – is the avenue I tend to walk more than not. Not worried about who’s gonna say what, who’s gonna try to pull me back, get all logical and with the “You can’t do that”s and the “Are you nuts?” and “Are you ever going to grow up?” Like they might have asked Peter Pan that.
Because a few hours ago I was in a room I somehow rented from 1000 miles away, here in the beach town of Encinitas, California, with an agency out of my right-now blue, them seemingly not giving a rat’s ass about my birth certificate, and saying welcome aboard (Kid), come along with us, we’re all about helping people to have bigger, more joyous, anything’s possible lives. And now you – however it is you got here – well, you got here. Why don’t you come along with us. There’s a bunch of cool cats and kitties waiting for us to see what they need, and can we maybe help some.
My wife divorced me back in April and one morning amidst the clatter and distress of my broken heart risk poked its head through a newly-opened window in the me-of-me and asked if maybe I felt like taking another ride. Like getting in the car again. And, with circumstance playing a leading role, I said okay and then so many of you reading this came running down the streets of my past and my career and my circles of similar souls and offered your help. So much help.
Dignifying my risk one more time. Which, it seems now, I’ll get to do some more of.