If you were a leaf… what color would you be?  Do leafs know from the start that they will end up red, or yellow, or orange?  Or does the final color come from sun and water intake?  Predetermined… or circumstantial?

You know….

Some kids seem very happy and carefree.  Others seem to have the weight of the world on their shoulders.  Adults are the same way.

I wonder if we are born with a pre-installed disposition.  A little barcode.  I wonder… if… when we plop out of the womb… we have a pre-set of ticks and tocks.  And from there it goes.

Or perhaps it isn’t that at all.  Maybe we all enter into this world with tapioca for our emotional status.  We are just plain yogurt.  Tofu.  Grits.  And whatever flavor is added… that is the flavor we become.  Except for the consistency.  You know…. grits are way different from yogurt in consistency.  But cheddar grits, and cheddar yogurt both taste recognizably cheddar.

Some people just seem happy through and through.  To the very core of their being.  It doesn’t matter if a somebody pukes on their shoes… they say “Wow.  That was fortunate.  They could’ve puked on my lap.”

But other folks are just cranky.  Curmudgeons.  Mr. Grumpy Pants. No pleasing them, no matter what.

Why?  Is it the inner map?  Or the surroundings?  The lot in life?  Or the DNA of it all?

Probably a bit of both.

But what if we DO all start out with the same disposition.  And then it shape-shifts as we get older.

When does it all change? When do we lose our mojo?  When do we get nervous, or angry, or fearful, or loopy?

I think I started out being wound this tight.  Yep.  I think the tension started when I was in the ovary… waiting for my turn to get out… and away…. from all those other…. crazy-freaking-eggs.

And, because I was the last born in the family, I felt that I was late… or that I had missed out on something.  Yep…. late for the party.

It is all a mystery to  me.  I’m just pretty happy I busted out of the ovary.  I’ll tell you that much right now.  What color leaf will I be?  I think I’ll keep my face toward the warmth of the sun… and hope it changes my color for the good.

“The final mystery is oneself.” – Oscar Wilde