Allegory of the lamp
I bought a lamp.
It was deposited yesterday, as heavy as hell, on my front porch.
I couldn’t lift it. I had to drag it inside, then push it to the center of the room with my foot. It was the base, you see, that was so heavy.
It came in several pieces, without directions, and I had to put it together by myself. The lamp is really tall, and thus required a stepladder to finish its assembly. It was also terribly awkward to put together. It would have been so much easier to assemble if I had an extra pair of hands, but I didn’t have an extra pair of hands so my feet helped me out. I made mistakes. I fixed them.
When I was done, it towered over me, illuminating the room in triumph. I grieved a little bit that I had no choice but to put it together by myself, and that I was the only one there to witness my victory.
And then I realized: I didn’t have to ask anyone if this lamp was okay to purchase. I didn’t have to check with anyone to see if the style was appropriate, and the price was acceptable. I liked it, it fit my budget, so I ordered it. And I reminded myself that a job well done is a job well done, regardless if anyone was there to pat me on the back and say, “Job well done!”
And this is to be my life, at least for right now. To find the small victories wherever I can, to revel in growth and mistakes and self-acceptance. And to understand there are always, always, always trade-offs in whatever life I choose (or am forced) to lead, and it’s up to me to decide how I face them.
And that’s what I learned from lamp last night. I love lamp.
