The Art of Hurling

Sometimes the world doesn't make sense. For me, the world often doesn't make sense. I might want it to, I might need it to, that doesn't mean it will.

The most interesting part for me of watching other people react and interact is how inconsistent and conflicting their interpretation of events can be. Like when witnesses are questioned at a bank robbery and 3 different people swear to 3 different descriptions of the robber. Or perhaps the story of the 3 blind men and the elephant is more suitable here.

We interpret our world through these filters that we don't even realize are there. Like smells we can't experience anymore because we are immersed in it every day. Or that obnoxious phone ringer that you've become so accustomed to it doesn't scare the bejangles out of you any more. When we wallow in patterns and habits of experience we lose the sensitivity we need to savor the world around us.

"When I was hurling my body onto yours, you did not seem to want to be with me."
-- Ginnifer Goodwin as Gigi in He's Just Not That Into You

Why doesn't anyone hurl their body any more? In the movies we see it, but we know the movies aren't real. So therefore we can't possibly do that. We are tentative and reliable. We don't go after what we want, we wait for it to show up.

When we do come across that person with the ambition, or desperation, or sheer unmitigated desire who hurls themselves at us, how do we handle it? Duck? Run? Push?

I don't know about you, but I want more hurling in my life. More bouncing, more flouncing, more Boom Crash Opera, and definitely more "yummy".