Not Too Big On Collections

I know people who collect corks from wine bottles emptied at significant events/experiences. I met a woman yesterday who collects bottle caps. My sister used to have an amazing collection of items from the 70s, including several feet of a gum wrapper rope she'd once created. Now she's into all things purple and camels. My brother is into anything Richard Petty has lent his name to. I love the stories behind these eclectic galleries of sorts. But I rarely have the room.

And then there are those folks who collect disease, disasters, and doom. You know them. They can list every bad thing that's happened of late and are on alert for what surely is the black cloud looming around the corner of what is currently Sunshine Street. While some have perfected this perverse Easter egg hunt of rotten fouls, all of us have the tendency. I caught myself last week. I was easily able to tick off a list of why I was so ticked off.

But I've never been much of a collector (though I was accused once of collecting colorful friends). And I realize that I have control over the voice inside my head who stands ready at the white board to list yet another injustice I might have suffered.

I can send the voice packing. Take the eraser and make this week a new week, this day a new day.

Am I saying we ignore patterns? Absolutely not. I believe strongly in identifying and addressing when we "keep doing what we've been doing in order to keep getting what we've been getting." Self-awareness is the first step they say and I'm a believer.

Still correction is a big step away from collection.