Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Live and Laugh

I think it was my dad who taught me to laugh at myself.  I am convinced that this skill is absolutely essential. 
This morning I was remembering a particularly embarrassing experience from a month or so ago.  You know how sometimes those memories fling themselves at you without warning?  It's amazing to me how much of a reaction is produced from a simple memory, but there I was, cringing inside. 
I found myself laughing.  Here I am, weeks later, and there's not a thing I can do about my month-old tactlessness.  But I can laugh.  I can log away whatever information might be helpful in the future, spread out my arms and let out a full-breathed laugh to the Montana sky while I squelch through the mud in my running shoes.

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