7.8 billion

We all love different things.  And, we love those things in differing degrees and intensities. It's both enlightening and mysterious to see what people gravitate toward - activities, products, choices, energy output, passions, addictions and even relationships. Something in our coding lends proclivity to this or that style, purchase, drink, food, house, hobby, vacation, friend, church, vocation, way of communicating, and even our choice of words. Variety is the spice of life, it's often said anyway. 

There have been lots of studies regarding genetics or environmental influences on people. I find those topics riveting. I gulp that genre of books and information down like a bag of M&Ms. That interest is merely a result of paragraph one - we are all different. It's why I love memoirs and autobiographies. It's also why I love to observe people operating fully as themselves with all their nuances, quirks, choices and bents. Many say one of my gifts is allowing people to be fully themselves in my presence without an expectation to perform, or hide parts of themselves - they let down. I hope I truly do that for others.

It's fascinating we can share sameness in the large pool of  human beings but have so many individual variances. What an absolutely beautiful fully stocked crayon box of even idiosyncrasies to color the world. Ever look at clothes in a store and say to yourself over much of it, "who would buy that!". The answer is someone or the store wouldn't stock even what you find ugly. Amazing:) 

To my butterfly loving friend Dorothy
The trick, the zen place to get to is to be more than tolerant of those differences. We need to celebrate and affirm each difference as a piece in the beautiful mural of humanity. We are a quilt garden, a 7.8 billion piece puzzle, a divine 8th wonder of the world.

During this pandemic of 2020 the only puzzle I could find in the store was something outside of my liking - totally not into butterflies and bright colors. There was obviously a run on puzzles in my town, but my mind needed a distraction despite the ugliness of the puzzle left on the shelf! When I got to the last couple pieces of that gaudy puzzle, it was missing the corner piece. Though there were hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of other pieces all in place, it felt incomplete without that one piece.

I am my own piece, different than yours.
 Without me, without you, there would be a hole somewhere in the puzzle.

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