And yet, I really love words. I think they are playful and vibrant, somber and reminiscent, valuable and weighty. What disappoints me is that they are often, also, cheap.
I recently asked friends where they find wisdom. A variety of answers followed; from learning from mistakes made, in the shower (inspired by a relaxed mind and warmth), from conversations with elders and friends. What I wonder about is how, in a world where there is information everywhere, if there isn't also wisdom waiting to be plucked up; like a wildflower among weeds. Or a penny on the sidewalk.
And how often I would like to shake it off or ignore it, the way I do the small brown ring stain on my desk where, silly me, I forgot to use a coaster.
Wisdom, I wonder, seems to come from outside myself. It seems to be created in a connection between people, between experiences and between the lines or busy life. Wisdom is a process of connecting the dots in seemingly unconnected experiences. It is beyond being clever or sounding smart. It is born, created, and sustained by being present, and by the vulnerability to be surprised by life.
