I’m not one to buy cutesy crochet pillows with quaint sayings, so I wouldn’t be the first believe something like, “People come in and out your life when you need them most.” But just because I wouldn’t buy an ugly pillow from the discount bin at Home Goods doesn’t mean I wouldn’t buy into the message. Like most things in life, from learning how to get over breakups to figuring out to communicate about a girl’s first major bodily event (or in pillow terms, “the journey from girlhood to womanhood”), I learn from experience and not from pillows. In the case of the bodily events, I learned from the Cosby Show, and I guess you could say that’s no better than a pillow, but that’s really besides the point.
Inspirational-pillow-owners probably do not pose with old stoves on the street:
Occasionally you find that life has gotten in your way, and not only are you leading a life you kind of hate, but you’ve also become someone you don’t really like. I’m fairly certain that happens to us more than we care to admit. I’ll be the first to admit that it has happened to me. It was during this time – when I ate a lot of animals, bought many expensive designer purses, and lived a much more high-class life – that I also lost touch with a few people (often on purpose).
Becoming a vegan has taught me a lot of things, and I’m not going to extol the virtues of veganism here at length because I do that enough and we’ll get to it eventually. Simply put: veganism taught me that I’m responsible for my actions above all else. You don’t have to become a vegan to realize this of course. Yet it’s a steadfast consciousness about the food you eat that really solidifies that sense of responsibility. If I don’t make the decision to eat ethically, no one will for me. The same thing goes for other aspects of my life.
Go ahead. You might as well write that on a pillow: You are responsible for your own happiness. Your own life. Your own destiny.
Sure, it sounds precious, seems quaint, and I may have just gagged a bit. So what?