Does it seem that love is missing in your life? Did you ever wonder why some people have it and some don't? I did. The answer is quite simple. However, in this case, let's take the long way there.
I love sticks. You know what I mean, the dried, woody branches from trees. The kind of sticks that are always discarded just off the trail, as if someone had just finished using it and dropped it right there for you to find. The kind of sticks you find near a pile of refuse at a construction site or lying in an empty lot. The kinds of sticks that litter a neighborhood street after a storm. The nicely finished hiking sticks you find at the outdoor camping store or the nature preserve you just visited.
I love sticks because of the way they feel and look and smell. They feel alive, cool and yet warm to the touch at the same time. Of course, you don’t really think of them as being alive. After all, someone or something cut it or broke it off the tree or perhaps, it was a tree that was milled to finished lumber and the stick you’re holding is just a strip ripped off the main plank.
I love sticks because of their fragrant smell, the texture of the grain and their color. Oh, the combinations are endless just like people. Each one is so different from the next, each one an individual just like you and me. Did you know that some sticks are as hard as an iron rod and some as soft as a dried sponge? Some can bend into curves while others simply snap because of their brittle nature?
Why if you took the time to really look at a stick, you’d find that some of them are really beautiful, I mean beautiful in a natural sense while others are beautiful because they’ve been surgically enhanced and cosmetically altered. We call that being carved or stained or painted. It’s kind of like a person with make-up or a face lift or a new hairdo.
Did you know that some sticks get invaded by bugs and get so ravaged by the invasion they’re just a hollow shell? Early man used them to make music. Have you seen the old sticks, sitting out in the sun until they’re all dried out and literally falling apart in flaky, splintery dust, or so desiccated they split open with wide cracks caused by the heat of the sun?
Now do you see why I love sticks? It’s because they’re just like people, like the ugly guy with a ton of character or the beautiful painted doll all dressed up for the party. A new stick is like a stranger I’ve just met. I can look at it and imagine all sorts of things and stories that might fit, but I won’t know the truth about it until I get to know it, to work with it, feel it, and understand it.
As you read about my love of sticks, are you getting a feel for where I’ve been and where I’m going? What do you see when you see a stick? What do you feel when you see a beautiful stick? Is it just a stick? Is it just a dead thing lying there on the ground or is it a living, breathing, animated being just like you and me?
Some people are born with special abilities and some with special needs. I was born with a genetic disorder that resulted in my muscles atrophying, that is they got weaker over time. There finally became a point where I needed a stick, a cane, to maintain my balance. There was such a vast selection out there to choose from but I finally found one I liked. I took it home and we became inseparable. I leaned on it and it supported me and as the years went by, I learned to like it. I didn't love it. After all, it was just a stick. But I liked it because it was functional and nice looking. It was my companion, for it went where ever I went and I got comfortable having it with me. In fact, we became so attached, I missed it when it wasn't right there next to me.
The funny thing about leaning on a cane is it got me to looking at other sticks, not just the ones like it, but all sorts of other sticks; short ones, fat ones, long ones, and skinny ones, carved and painted ones, finished and unfinished ones, too. It's then that I began to see the limitless possibilities that sticks have to offer. They bring me joy and I see their potential beauty in every discarded stick I see lying on the ground. When I hear of a tornado or a hurricane happening and see the destruction that they cause, and see the piles of wood and trees being dumped in landfills during the clean-up, I am saddened by the loss of all those beautiful sticks that could have been. I see and feel the loss of all those sticks and am saddened by the waste of such incredible potential. Because, I love sticks.
I told you we'd take the long road getting there and now here we are. So did you get the answer? It's right in front of you. Love will stick to you if you will love a stick. Hey wait a minute. I know you think this is a joke, right? No, it isn't. In order for you to know love, for love to stick to you, you have to understand what it is to love. You have to be willing and able to love unconditionally, to give and to receive love, even if it's just loving a stick. When you begin to feel and care about other people and other things as much as, or more than, you care for yourself, perhaps then, love will stick to you. Back to stixncanes