Extraordinary

I had an epiphany today.  The more extraordinary I think I am, the more ordinary I really am. It is in the search to be more that I join the teeming masses of others who think more about that than they do the things that would actually make them, us, me, extraordinary.

I know some extraordinary people and I know they consider themselves quite ordinary.  They may even equate themselves with that poor ass pulling an old fashioned plow endlessly through the field. Except, that unlike me, they find themselves plodding patiently step after step to reach the end of each row, hoping, believing, but not demanding that some good thing might happen with each step.  Making each step important and necessary and maybe even a little bit wonderful in its own way.

The true humbleness of the extraordinary shines through what they do, who they are, how they approach the milestones that look like barriers to me.

My Way is filled with beautiful Aha moments, but it is also filled with long stretches of potholes and pockets of darkness and fake rest areas where I think I am recharging when I am only wallowing. 

Sometimes I wonder why I am here, what the point of me is and if I am supposed to say the obvious to those coming up behind me or if they need to discover those things themselves. I wonder if the fall before the climb makes that climb any more productive, or if it only makes it longer?

I do know that the fall is only that.  A fall.  Any attempt to dissect it only inhibits the climb back up.  I may not choose the best way back up, but I will learn much from the attempt so any subsequent climbs will be even more productive.  I think extraordinary people seem to know this instinctively.

The rest of us learn the hard way that we are seldom as extraordinary or as inconsequential as we believe.

And that is the road to being extraordinary, or perhaps simply back to that thought I had in the beginning.