Aside from the physics of it, I've never really understood that proverb. Are we supposed to want to keep on rolling, moss-free and nomadic? Or, is it the moss that makes life worthwhile?
My thought is that moss is intended to be desirable. If you don't have any moss (attachments), they become difficult to build when you're constantly moving. For me, as a long-time semi-nomadic singleton, it becomes tougher to keep my attachments intact each year.
Part of it is travel. As a single person, about 1/2 of my weekend is spent paying bills, preparing for the next trip, and doing the chores that other folks have a partner to help with. None of that is down-time. To give up a free day, so that I can travel to place that's convenient for someone else is a big sacrifice. And, with the majority of my childhhood friends living on the other side of LA County, the trip to their homes can take me 2 to 3 hours in good traffic.
Another part is the lack of inclusiveness. I am happy for my friends with spouses and children. I wish them joy. But, it becomes old to hear endless stories about reguritation and to be excluded from activities, because I'm +1 instead of +2. Their comments that I should have a child - by myself - are both thoughtless and rude. I've listened patiently to their hours of complaints because they have had to take care of a child for a day without help from a spouse. To wish me 18+ years of doing everything on my own, why should I be expected to handle something that they can't?And, most frequently, I find myself thinking that it's no longer worth trying to be heard. So many of the people in my life are extroverts; they don't experience life unless they've talked about it, and they rarely stop to listen. I'm an introvert, I do listen. And, when people say something is important to them, I remember. Why can't I be afforded the same level of courtesy and respect?
Earlier this year, I raised this issue with my mother and sister. They essentially said that I should just repeat myself and raise my voice until they stopped to listen. There was no willingness to pay attention to what I had told them, just an expectation that I would change my personality and innate communication style to pander to what is most comfortable for them. They complain that I don't tell them much about my life. But, I consider that to be pointless, why should I talk to someone who doesn't listen? Over the years, I can't even count the number of times that I have answered one of their questions, only to hear (often within seconds) the same question. When I point out that I just responded, they admit that they weren't listening.
More and more frequently, I've been wondering - when can I stop listening? And, do they realize that when I stop listening, I won't resume? I'm not just a dumping ground for their incessant need to dialogue. If they expect me to relate to them on their terms, then I should be able to expect them to relate to me on my terms. From that perspective, they are clearly not interested in my life since they don't bother to pay attention.
I suppose the above sounds bitter or angry. But, that's not how I feel; I'm tired. Mostly, I'm tired of feeling like the person who always has to compromise, forfeit, and build the bridge to understanding. Then, after they've soaked up all my emotionally energy with their need to have someone listen, I have to deal with subtle comments about why I'm not married with children. It's sad, but my life is better when I'm farther away. Maybe that's why I don't mind traveling; it's a few days of peace.
And if I'm wrong, and the proverb is pushing for a moss free life? Well, you can always remove moss with some pesticide and a good soak in a bucket of bleach...
Or, you can just tell everyone that you're a PC and Windows crashed, erasing your contact list. ;p
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