Think about frogs. Frogs are transformational animals. They begin life as one thing and wind up as something else entirely. It may not be as dramatic as the change that butterflies go through, but it's not insignificant. Growing legs, learning to breathe air, and hopping out of the nice safe water into the big wide world is no small feat.
Lately I've been trying to initiate my own transformation. Seems like I'm always doing that, actually, but in the past few weeks in particular, I've been making a conscious effort to come out of my cocoon.
I had a sort of wake-up call when my 12-year-old son looked at me one day and said "Mom, you need some friends."
Um. Okay.
It's true, though. I've become pretty isolated. I didn't mean to, and I didn't even realize it was happening until recently. John has a new buddy: a fellow restaurant-business-guy whom he plays music and frisbee golf with. He brought said guy over to meet the dogs, hoping to recruit him to dog-sit for us while we're on vacation in August. We had an enjoyable evening of hanging out, and after everyone was gone, that's when the bomb dropped. I need some friends.
I've never been very good at making friends. Not that I'm unlikable or weird or creepy or anything. I don't think I'm too bossy or annoying or anything like that. I just get awkward making that step from "hey howya doin'" to "Hey you want to have coffee." Thank god I was born a woman. I'm sure if I was a guy I'd never have the courage to ask a woman out.
I tend to keep things light and surfacey. I make jokes, I'm "entertaining," but it's all just on the surface: like a water-skater bug, skimming along, never getting wet. The problem with that is, that all the good stuff is below the surface, and while sometimes I can see it from up here in water-skater land, I'm not part of it. And the longer I'm up here by myself, the more the folks down below in the party forget I was ever there. I recede.
So I'm trying to become more of a frog. Frogs, being creatures of both land and water, are comfortable in both elements. They can swim below the surface and be part of what's happening; they can dip in and out whenever they please; or they can climb out on a nice warm lilly pad and mind their own business. Surface tension keeps them neither out nor in.
So, I'm trying to be consciously less "entertaining" and more "present" in my daily dealings with the creatures both above and below the surface. When I greet someone on the surface, I leave my hat and cane behind and I'm trying to be still and listen, then respond honestly and genuinely. Likewise when I dip into the actual social realm, I must try not to be the dancing frog... just the frog swimming among other frogs: listening, and responding. Not just talking and waiting for my chance to talk again.
This is challenging for me, and will require cracking open my shell a bit more than I have been lately, as well as resisting the urge to hide behind my jokes and small talk. I have to Be the Frog. Dip in, climb out. Dip in, climb out.
Ribbit. Also, some frogs can be completely frozen and come back to life. So that's encouraging.
Watch this video to see for yourself: http://videos.howstuffworks.com/tlc/28588-understanding-frozen-wood-frogs-video.htm
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