Farm Boy is a shop manager who is tall, lanky, well over six feet tall and always wears a hat with a tractor logo or gun maker. He and I (five foot one and a touch) were walking back to our building when I came to a complete halt. His long legs carried him a good distance before he realized he was talking to himself. When he came back, I was standing with hands in my pocket, my head tilted almost to my shoulder staring at a semi truck parked in our receiving truck bay. Farm Boy looked at the semi, looked at me, back at the truck and then back at me.
The second ping pong look I pointed to the side of the truck where a beautiful picture of a hill was painted. The hill, though, was stripped of all trees, it had been bulldozed and in the back ground were several big bulldozers which had probably cleared the land. To the side was a picture of trash, old tires that had been pushed into one large trash pile. At the bottom in brilliant coloring were the words "Chemicals Lubricants and Science for Life". Looking up at Farm Boy I asked him if he thought there was anything odd about the picture and words. He tried, he really did. Patting me on the top of my head he laughed and said I had the cutest way of looking at life then walked away laughing and shaking his head.
Finishing the walk by myself the picture continued to poke me. Congruence. That was it. It was not congruent. The picture was of an earth stripped and probably polluted by the very chemicals, lubricants and science they were delivering. And that is 'life'? The company's painting on their trucks could not have been cheap but did they not see the incongruity? The disconnect? As I am prone to do, I turned the question back to myself. Is my walk congruent with my heart? Are the images of me the world sees connected to what I truly believe? How much energy do I lose or invest in painting an image that is not what I really am?
A real shiver struck when it occurred to me that maybe there was not a disconnection. Maybe the picture was what the company did and they thought it was good seeing nothing wrong in stripping and polluting the earth. Maybe they were so bold as to just come right out and paint a beautiful picture of the destruction they cause upon the earth. Could they possibly be that 'in your face' bold? What areas in my life do I dress up my own stubbornness and pride to look pretty?
Gathering my things for yet another meeting, I walked out of my office and noticed a group of guys down the drive. You couldn't miss Farm Boy. They were staring at the truck. Farm Boy grinned and waved. He shook his head back and forth, pointed to the guys as if to say "some people just don't see". I laughed out loud, waved and touched my heart. He tipped his hat and smiled. And my walk to the other building was a little slower, softer, and kind of cute. It matched my heart.
About Me
- Beth Chapman
- Owatonna, Minnesota, United States
- I have begun a path, though I know not where, to a journey’s end that is calling. Along the way I pause to absorb the metaphors and images of this life, which are so precious. Here you shall find me brave, you shall find me pondering, you shall find me searching, and you shall find me collecting the images and metaphors like shells upon the beach. I am very much like the little monkey wearing a dapper hat, playing the cymbals and drum and dancing a jig. I do not have it all figured out, I may be learning to write, but one thing I do know and that is how to collect the shells on the beach of my beloved Gulf Shores. I offer these shells to you.
free copyright
