Building a Better Tomorrow

Before We Start Building

I rarely dream. In fact, I used to wonder if it was normal that I dreamt so infrequently. So you can imagine my surprise over the last few weeks when the dreams started. The word “dream” has a positive connotation, so I am not sure they qualify as dreams. Bottom line, I wake up every morning with anxiety hangovers from what I encountered during my slumber, or as a good friend fittingly calls it, “the hangzies”.

Yes, anxiety has reared its evil head back into my reality, although it is no stranger to me. It’s made several appearances, starting in my high school years and peaking at the loss of my father in 2010. But admittedly the last few years, anxiety has been quiet, too quiet, like a sleeping giant. The drip of a leaky bathroom faucet that you are only able to ignore for so long, but finally wakes you up one morning on the verge of madness.

The source of my anxiety, you ask? Knowledge.

As a teacher, bestowing knowledge and information is my job, my responsibility. Generations past craved to know more, and if they hadn’t we would not know our current society, a society that chokes you with digital information.

“Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?” –T.S. Eliot

We are inundated with information: Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, and the countless others that I am too old to know about. Not to mention the good old boob tube; it’s so hard to navigate. We all want to be “in the know”, but often these information outlets are so overwhelming that it feels suffocating.
And with this shit storm of information, how does one determine what is fact versus the immense amount of BS online?

I am not a diagnosed manic (at least not yet), but searching social media makes me feel mental. I log onto Facebook and in one upward swipe I am hysterical at a video of someone I don’t know falling on their ass (because let’s face it, people falling is funny); devastated that a friend’s cancer has come back; sobbing about the mistreatment of puppies in China; jealous that my high school friend’s selfies are flawless; frustrated at the hate among people of opposing groups; and terrified that Kim Jong Un is really going to nuke us any day now. It is a damn rollercoaster of emotions. There are just not enough emojis to cover it all.

But, it is so hard to look away. Social media is one giant gaper delay.
I guess the heightened anxiety should be of no surprise.

[image_with_caption text=”iStock” image=”https://itsblossom.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/iStock-691327172-e1533665208582.jpg”]

Enter the Lego.

There has been a Lego piece buried in my carpet for ten years and is just big enough to escape the vacuum’s fate. The little SOB that makes its existence known in one agonizing step and shouts of obscene expletives.

Legos have different shapes, sizes, and colors. Different, but fundamentally the same at the core, not unlike the human race.

Consider this, we are all “Lego” pieces. We have our own diverse characteristics and identities, but we ultimately need to connect with others to function as a society.

The agonizing pain of the Lego made me wonder; can our Lego pieces of varying shapes, sizes and colors be fit together to create a unified nation? Or, are we all just too differently hardwired to change?

Could we ever be a Lego Nation?

If we are all Lego pieces, I can really only oversee my own Lego piece and the little Lego pieces I am raising. If I take care of my Legos then I am ultimately contributing to other healthy connections. It is my responsibility to foster Legos that are respectful, tolerant, loving and kind.

My son was a Lego lover from an early age. Hours upon hours, pouring his heart into any set he could get his hands on; often becoming frustrated trying to make the pieces fit precisely how it was displayed on the instructions. But, my favorites were always the sets that he created on his own; the ones when he went rogue. The ones he was led by creativity, and heart, rather than the instructions. Although the finished product was not perfect, according to the diagram, it was his creation.

It’s not always easy following very precise instructions. Life throws lots of curve balls, and things don’t always work out exactly as expected. Sometimes it feels like we are forcing pieces together that just don’t fit, like there is no solution, no way to make our children a future that is not plagued with hate and contention, a future that is less anxiety-ridden.

But maybe if we just focus on building our Lego pieces the best we can, it won’t feel so overwhelming. If we are open to connecting to Legos of different shapes, colors, and sizes, who knows what the nation can build together or better yet, the world?

So, how will I find my sound sleep again? How will I curb my anxiety?

I will focus on my Lego pieces. It’s really all I can control in a world seemingly gone mad, and swamped with information.

I will strive to give my Legos a strong foundation because nothing remarkable has ever been built from the top down.