If you've ever wondered how tower vision differs from tunnel vision, then this is your lucky day. Let's take tunnel vision first: I visualize a brain, stuffed in a tunnel, crawling forward gathering clues in the dark. And while crawling forward, eyes focus on a glimmer of light, which signals the end of confusion, ahead. Ultimately, the day will dawn when a beam of light highlights an Aha! moment.
At that moment, the tunnel expands; the crawler stands up and hungrily devours a smorgasbord of logic that brightens his or her mind. As tunnel crawlers seek clarity, they tend to be bookish.
On the other hand, I visualize life amongst tower dwellers differently: Imagine egos, wearing blinders, balancing precariously atop sky-high pedestals.
Encircling each pedestal, imagine a safety net, grounded in reality, held secure by many loving hearts. Though these loving hearts care/fully coax the tower dweller to take a leap of faith, encouraging words falls on ears, so fearful of change that common sense goes unheard. You see, tower dwellers can't break the spell of self-imprisonment until the blame game est finis.
While frightened brains brittle up from blaming others for devastating changes, spongy brains bounce here and there, hoping to meet others half way.
Before anyone can embrace a leap of faith and fly free of fear, each must cast off the heavy weight of one's own protective shield. This is a time consuming feat, because protective shields are many layered.
Expunging fear of change is a difficult task unless we place pride to one side and face our vulnerabilities, head on.
As masks of false pride are set aside, we fly toward freedom on humility's wings.
In this way couples-at-war may hug, kiss, make up and fly toward the future, hand-in-hand.
If it’s true that the higher we climb the farther we fall, both minds must feel spongy enough to rebound from that plunge with a bounce.
I remember one time when my parents were in their eighties, and my mom was bouncing new ideas off my dad, which our beloved patriarch simply could not fathom. When Dad voiced his frustration by declaring, "I'm too old to change!" here was Mom's spunky reply:
"Well, you may be too old to change, but I'm not dead, yet!"
Way to go, Mom!
When Dad asked for my opinion about changes taking place in Mom, I smiled, hugged him close, and gently answered his confusion with: Mom’s been influenced by the 'younger' generation—namely—Lauren and me. Though Dad took pride in his adult daughters' independent minds, his perspective narrowed when the ideas of my generation hit too close to his home. J
It's scary for tower dwellers to remove their blinders, because no one wants to see the narrow limitations of one's own scope. Had Dad been able to take that leap of faith, he's pride in Mom's courage would have shone bright. And if I take the liberty of paraphrasing Mom's attitude of moving forward and thriving over surviving, I think she’d agree with this belief: Life offers people of all ages and both genders countless opportunities to open their minds, embrace self-empowering leaps of faith, and put an end to the blame-game, once and for all.
In addition to showering our family with love, Dad showed his children how to adventure past certain fears. In addition to showering our family with love, Mom showed her children how to fly free of constraint on humility's wings.
Lucky Lauren. Lucky me.
So if Dad's heart and spirit had matched Mom's, then why did our beloved patriarch take offense at having been challenged when our beloved matriarch tested her wings? Well during times of conflict, good people of both genders—and all ages—take turns at being tunnel crawlers, tower dwellers, safety nets and rebels.
In truth, real life is fraught with as much conflict as any reality show on TV. Late in life, Mom could no longer follow the script, which made Dad's comfort zone feel secure.
Having listened, attentively, to views expressed by her daughters' generation, Mom's expanded sense of self-respect insisted that she speak her mind more assertively than ever before. As you can imagine, that did not sit well with: The Papa! The Papa! Tradition! I mean think about it: My parents were in their eighties when changes, which made sense to us, began to 'speak' to Mom ...
As the minds of twelve-year olds, like Annie and Joe, have no clue about 'tunnelers', 'towerers', or holding out safety nets when one or the other needs to take a leap of faith, they must struggle with quick-change emotions, subconscious insecurities, and growing pains, on their own.
Rather than brain storming toward logical solutions in which comfort zones expand, kids (of all ages) react to conflicts instinctively, meaning that fighting, fleeing, or freezing replaces common sense. In lieu of common sense, all we can think to do when our needs go unmet is to point fingers of blame ... again and again—until that sad cycle is reversed—and reversing that cycle, my friends, is the main purpose of my blog ...
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