Starstruck

There used to be a time that I was starstruck-well maybe not starstruck but excited to see someone famous. I think I have lost that feeling; fame doesn’t interest me much anymore. People are just people and I almost feel sorry for those who can’t move about without some level of anonymity, privacy, or personal space. Maybe that’s why they live in giant homes, so they can mill about indoors and not worry.

If we indeed have just this one life, why spend it trying to catch those five minutes of fame, notoriety, or immense material success? I would much prefer to be recognized by my backyard birds, my elderly friends, the kids I used to teach. No autographs or paparazzi or pretense.

There are those who live in the spotlight and generously share their abundance. They carefully chip off fragments of their own light to give to others. It must be an overwhelming responsibility to have so much and try to manage it.

I have come to sense the space that I am taking up on this planet and what I’d like it to stand for or represent. I believe we each have some purpose to help, to heal, to inspire. And maybe those who live and glow in the spotlight - the rockstars, the actors, the sports idols, absorb so much light that there may be little left for the food-pantry volunteers, the wildlife rehabilitators, the special education teachers, the nurses, the doctors, the helpers of every kind. But I know their light, their glow, their success, shines from within.

I can’t judge others - the rich, the famous, the poor, the lost, the quiet, the loud, the friendly, the cautious- it is only my slippers that I need to fit into at the end of the day, to try and find peace and meaning in this one challenging yet beautiful life.