This whole idea comes out of left field I will admit it. I haven't thought on the topic of boldness or reflected on my personal level or ranking on said topic in some time. But the thought came screaming out to me two days ago when I saw the greatest display of boldness since Teddy Roosevelt dug that huge hole in Panama.
But before we discuss that, a tangent:
The other night I was hanging out with some friends when a girl quickly stuck her finger up her nose to give the inner wall a little scratch. She wasn't digging for anything, it was quick and very ninja like, but it was clear she did it. She was just stealth enough that it could have been that she was not wanting anyone to see her dirty deed. At first I dismissed it as a nose ring adjustment until I realized her nose ring was on the other side of her nose. Then I realized what had happened. But was I going to call her out on it? No way! Propriety and a fear of being beaten up by a girl kept my mouth shut. I was going to leave her unrebuked for her nose picking ways. Then she got called out on it by a girl who lacked both my propriety and fear of bodily harm.
"You just picked your nose!" The girl declared.
"Yeah..." The nose picker retorted. "You don't? Everyone does. People just act like they don't. I'm not ashamed. Look everyone does it... Soandso, you pick your nose?" Soandso nods. "Whatsherface, you pick your nose?" Whatsherface blushes and looks away. "Tyler you pick your nose?"
I boldly respond "Hu? Oh, I was... well... not with... I'm... I don't really... Dude, I'm not gonna answer that."
"See? Everyone picks their nose." As she restates her thesis everyone else recontemplated their whole world view.
End tangent.
The next day I am heading off to the east coast to see my parents for the holidays. For a myriad of reasons I am sleepless and tired. I braved a day of table waiting, packing, driving through tremendous rain storms (they weren't so bad, I'm just trying to stack the deck here), a sleepless night with Mel Brookes' classic films, and airport security to get where I am now: my gate at the airport.
Needless to say I'm tired. People are doing that thing where they rudely put their suitcase on the chair to their left and their jacket on the chair to their right (I'd judge them but I was doing the same thing before nature beckoned me to her porcelain temple) so there are no available seats. I'm fading in and out of consciousness where I stand.
When my eyes jerk open to right sleeplessness I am looking into the face of a little Asian woman.* She is picking her noise. She is really going at it. This isn't a gentle scratching of the surface. This is a throwback to the gold rush. This lady is digging like she's trying to win an Olympic medal.
As I witness this my mind fades for an unknown amount of time to the conversation about nose picking at the party. I think about playing Apples to Apples. I think about how true it is that everyone picks their nose. Sometimes its a necessity. And sometimes its just feels good. I think about how everyone says you shouldn't do it, but everyone does. Whether you're rich or poor, everyone has had a finger venture up the mountain's tunnels to see what they might find. I thought of the phrase everyone picks their nose. Which led me to think about the phrase everyone poops. Which made me think of the children's book with its profound yet simple message. There should be a book about nose picking. Should I do my own illustrations? Could their be a Christian message in it? Could it be a series? Could it make me enough money to buy a minivan with automatic locks? Could it make me enough money to buy a automobile that isn't a van so girls won't laugh when they see me? Too much to hope for. Why is it always the pretty girls who are comfortable with nose picking? Why does picking my noise feel so good when society tells me its so bad? Are each of our index fingers specially designed by God to perfectly fit our nostril?
I come back to reality to find the lady is still picking her nose. She hasn't quit. And it dawns on me: she is looking right at me! She has been looking at me this whole time. And I've been looking at her! This whole time my mind has been wandering into the land of nose picking philosophy I've been looking at this little Asian lady as she aggressively digs up her nose. She knows I'm looking at her and she picks her nose all the same.
This must be how the Grinch felt when Christmas morning came and Christmas came all the same (without packages or bows, etc) and all the Whos down in Whoville were singing their Whocarols.
Me looking at her should have sent her into a proverbial tailspin of self consciousness and doubt. She should have pulled that little finger out of her nose and ran to the other side of the room to avoid eye contact with me forever. There she could spend the remainder of our time waiting for the plane praying she isn't in a seat next to mine. But she doesn't.
SHE DOESN'T!!!
She picks her nose like she is daring me to judge her for it. With every little twist of her hand she defies cultural norms and my watching. With that simple upward thrust of her index finger she tells the world and little me sitting in the middle of it "I know how you want me to behave, but I will not do it. I will not conform to your arbitrary standards. We all pick our noses, I'm just bold enough to do it freely, without fear of judgement or rejection. If this world can not respect me for the nose picker I am then I want no part of this world and its restrictions. I want to be free."
Since then I've thought about my own boldness in life. I don't know how courageous I can be in the face of adversity, but I pray for the strength to be myself, stand by my convictions and fight injustice no matter the cost. I want to take a stand, not sit on the sidelines whiles others do all the work.
I haven't picked my nose in public yet, but I've thought about it, and that's a start.
*race accomplishes nothing more than providing a picture. I am not accusing all Asians of being nose pickers.
