To be me is a funny thing to be indeed. Because I have no idea how to be me in the right way.

I am thoroughly convinced, there’s a better more efficient way to just be me if only I could figure out the right combination for the lock. I keep spinning it, listening for the tumblers to make that perfect click.

hat head number 1 on

To portray myself well seems to require a better knowledge of who I am. A better character study of what I’m like and what fuels me. A vision of life purpose using all the talents I’m told I have.

I really haven’t a clue though.

I wake up each day and take a stab at doing what it might mean to be me to do.

hat head number 3 on

Until I get it “right”, I’m still using only a puny percentage of my brain power I’m told.

I’ve this unsatisfied daily hangover feeling. I’m just not quite me enough, whatever that means.

Then someone says, “You are enough” and I certainly don’t want them to be wrong. So I’ll keep pretending to be the best me for their sake.

hat head number 4 on

“On a clear day I can see for a long way…”

The last words in this melancholy song from Colin Hay. Press the orange circle below to listen.


  1. Shalagh,

    This is a good one! Not better than others, just one that hit a
    familiar note with me. I have to admit that I roll along doing
    the sorts of things I’ve always done. They feel right, but maybe only because they are familiar and in my comfort zone.

    I used to think that “Heaven,”in place of the “Guy in the Sky” was that you found out from someone that you spent your life as
    you were supposed to. “Hell” was finding out that you wasted the time you were given.

    I’m not sure that I have that right. I don’t really think that
    there is a continuing consciousness after death. Anyway, this sort of topic is interesting to debate with oneself.


    • Thanks for your enthusiasm as I was sure people would not, and still probably get my tongue and cheek on this one. I’m over stating it. I always say that Hell is made of painting miles and miles of woodwork. I like the “finding out you did what you were supposed to” heaven. I think I’m going to try to live and know that. Faith is believing in that already.
      Thanks Ann.

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