13 November 2005

A Letter To Jane The Plane

Dear Jane

I don't think you know you are a plane, but having been one myself, I think I can see it.

Not a Jumbo Jet, but a toy plane. Not those polystyrene things that bend the second you throw them, but a properly constructed, old fashioned, toy aeroplane; the kind with the strength to take a good rubber band inside from propellor to tail.

When we're working right, we don't bend at the first fall (or the second, or the third), we don't waft around ineffectually, we zoom. We are brilliant; and for that reason life, like a delighted little boy, seems to chuck us around a lot harder, play with us more often and whilst weaker items go on display we end up in the dog's bowl one day, stuck in a tree the next; down the back of the sofa too often to count, but are always fished out and always thrown again. Its the life of a really treasured possession and for that its okay.

But this is about your rubber band.

Life, the boy, has played too much, has wound your propellor a few too many times, and your overwound band has knots and kinks in it. You know it, I know it. If someone was to come up to you and show real sympathy at the wrong moment - heck, that band would unravel, and ones with knots in have this way of going sproing. Instead of soaring, something would bust.

So do it your way.

Let the pressure off little by little, in tiny steps. Keep on locking your propellor when you have to. Yes you'll look rigid. Yes friends offering comfort may be confused, but if some teddy bear from the toy box comes up to you with their emotional arms open and something inside starts to go twoing - if you feel yourself unravelling and about to collapse or explode, you have a right to pull your most furious look and shout 'Get away from the rubber band!'

Pace yourself. Find a weepy movie or soppy music and let just a tiny amount of the pressure off, one tiny ping at a time; or just plain decide to forget about it and go say something nice to someone else instead.

Right now, you are the only one who can see inside, who can tell when its safe to unravel a little more of the pressure, so go with your own instinct and take as long as you want.


Right, thats that said, now go see this.
But not if your stomach's a bit delicate. You have been warned. Its just that, if the above was a bit soppy for you, or came too close to making something go twang (all that bloody love and understanding - so annoying when you're holdin' it all together) then this is definitely an antidote.
I'm Welsh, but I disown this, I tell you.

6 comments:

Host of Spirits said...

I think you need a MUCH STRONGER WARNING on that link lol

Dear lord I hope you all got strong stomachs hahahaha

bart said...

bwahahahaha... that was the most disgusting thing i've seen in ages... 8-))))

thanks for the rubber band allegory, you're pretty spot on here and it needs to be done quietly, intuitively and if at all possible, gracefully...

fineartist said...

Beautiful funny post cheryl, thank you. If anyone needs me I will be uncoiling my rubber band, oh where is my copy of the movie, Bird Cage? Robin Williams always makes me feel good all over.

zilla said...

I am SO sending that link to Chika. Without apologies. She's proven her stomach...

Milt Bogs said...

Oh my God Cheryl! I will never drink again.

jane said...

OMG I thought I had a strong stomach, really, I did. But, well, I, Ummm....forwarded it to Tarzan. hehehe I should be getting a call shortly. :)

The mushy part (not bodily fluids mushy, but heart mushy), thank you so very much.
The more I get to know you, the more I truly believe it's no accident we've crossed paths.
I can't write much now, but just know, I'm deeply grateful.
your friend,
Jane