Thank you

When I was younger, I am told, and also perhaps much more recently than I realize,  my most oft repeated phrase was I can do it myself!,  accompanied by a forcefull twisting of the body away from whoever was offering assistance. I'd like to think this attitude was less an over confidence in my personal abilities, and rather a seeking to be in control, to have a go, and to not make anyone do for me what I could, in fact, do for myself. Or it could just be stubbornness.

I remember a morning hike to a climb in Big Cottonwood canyon. I, as always, quickly grabbed the heaviest pack out of the jeep, stubbornly refused to have him carry it instead, and started up the dirt trail. His legs were so long. But I would not ask him to slow down or stop. I started getting very warm, and very thirsty. On we went as the sun beat down.  He is so fast. I could feel I was much too hot, but didn't want to stop to take off my sweatshirt. I had to keep up. And then I was face down in the dust. I had fainted due to overheating, dehydration, and I can do it myself.

Branching, I believe, from this same mentality is my No, I'm okay, thank you. No matter what is offered, I seem to feel the words tumbling out of my mouth before I can scoop them back in. Can I get you anything to drink? Well I am rather thirsty, but No, I'm ok, thank you. Or Can I  help you with anything? Hmm. I have no idea where _______ is, or I really do need another size, but No, I'm ok, thank you! It is my first reaction, my go to response.

I think it's because I don't want to inconvenience anyone. I'll just go about my own little business and not be a bother, thanks. The thing is, this is not the right way to go about things. I know. If someone is offering, me rejecting is not necessarily the nicest, least bothersome path. In fact, I may by the very act be denying them something they really wanted to give or do. It could be mean. ( gasp!)

Eric and I used to take a Burmese family shopping every week at the oriental market in Sugarhouse. It was a family of refugees, ever so recently relocated to America, and without much in the way of money. They would buy their bags of rice, fresh vegetables, and then usually disappear from our view for a few minutes as we also shopped. When we'd return to their apartment and carry up all the bags, we'd all sit in a circle on the floor, trying yet again to learn some Kareni words and hear their latest English ones, when out would come the drinks and snacks they secretly bought for us.

I remember the first time they offered me these, I, of course, thought No, I'm okay, thank you. Or rather No. You need this all way more than I do, but I am truly touched by your kindness. What I learned there on that tan carpet though, is that the joy and satisfaction them offering these shrimp flavored chips and asian energy drinks gave them, was what they needed more. I had to put aside me feeling bad consuming some of their limited supply, and instead wonder at their generosity and enjoy the moment.

I believe a healthy sense of independence is, well, healthy. So is an appreciation for how dependent and interdependent I am and should be. I cannot do it, or anything really, myself. The food I eat I may purchase with my own money. But I did not plant, nor harvest. The clothes I wear, the small knowledge I claim, the love that moves, the body I inhabit, my daughter; None of it could I have myself.

and.
This is a wonderful thought.

"This is the true joy in life: the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community, and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no 'brief candle' to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations." -- George Bernard Shaw