“Do be a ‘Do Bee.’ Don’t be a ‘Don’t Bee.’”

You baby boomers should recognize this from Romper Room!

Mr. Do-Bee was an oversized bumblebee who taught the children proper manners. His sentences began with, “Do Bee good boys and girls for your parents!” Of course, there was a Mr. Don’t Bee to teach what not to do.

At the end of each show, Miss Fran (?) held up her magic hand–held mirror, without a mirror, and looked (into the camera, directly at you) to see if you were being good and what you were doing? She always called out the name of the children she saw in “televisionland,” saying, “I can see Johnny and Frankie and Susie and….”

When she held up her magic mirror, my anticipation swelled, only to be deflated when my name wasn’t among the seen. I secretly wanted Miss Fran to see me through her magic mirror. I wanted her to tell me that I, too, was being good. She never did; nor did anyone else, until I was in high school.

I was the middle child between a much older, athletically-talented, popular big brother and a younger baby sister. Not to upset the family status quo, I learned early to take care of myself, to be quiet, and to not make waves. Independence and self-sufficiency became my emotional BandAids.

Unconsciously, we all adopt coping mechanisms for our particular family dynamics. Until we cognize our limiting beliefs, we subconsciously continue our adaptations to environmental, emotional, mental, and physical circumstances with the exact coping behaviors established in childhood.

Toni Morrison brought a subliminal emotional message to my mental attention when she challenged with this question: “Does your face light up when your child (or anyone, for that matter) comes into the room?”

We come into this world wired for parental love and approbation to feel we’re seen so most of us notice if our gaze meets theirs with joy and pleasure. We also see  critical, judgmental scans scrutinizing outward appearance, dress, hygiene, and behavior. It’s in these instances that we conclude: we’re not special. The beauty of who we are isn’t seen.

For me, the abrupt juxtaposition of SCI into my active, appearance-driven lifestyle ushered in positive waves of inner transformation- a double whammy. Not only did I notice other’s avoidance to see me, I began to see that my manners resembled those of Mr. Don’t Bee. Patience, kindness and gratitude called for my attention.

Just as the constant, faithful flow of water breathtakingly sculpts the earth (or hideously erodes landscapes), life interruptions (SCI, disease, illness, grief, depression) are opportunities to smooth down our sharp edges for beautifying change, in spite of other’s “sharp edges.”
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“The constant dripping of water sculpts the stone.” is a paraphrase of the Latin proverb, “Gutta cavat lapidem.”

Rumi got to the point: “If you are irritated by every rub, how will your mirror be polished?” Again, a double whammy: we are responsible ONLY for adjusting our insecurities NOT other’s…concerning anything!

If you’re resisting making character changes as the result of “whatever interruption” is in your life, your rough edges remain. If only you would embrace the irritating rub to mirror your polish.

As Miss Fran said, “I see Matthew and Macie and YOU in computerland, BEcoming THE BEST YOU”Do be a ‘Do Bee.’ Make honey from your bitter flower!

P.S. For a food for thought smorgasbord of how disability nudged me to smooth my rough edges, nibble on my book, HOW TO BE THE BEST YOU http://booklocker.com/books/6811.html