I spent some quality time recently with a very likeable Cactus. It's true, by the way, the Cactaceae family are a super pleasant bunch. The reason I connect with the prickly plant the most, is because he is a great listener. I know, I know it's counter intuitive. You think because of his gruff physical appearance he wouldn't be receptive to people -- but that is so wrong.
Mr. Cactus was born to listen. Because of the spartan-like existence he lives in the desert he's not around a whole lot of other beings, so when he gets a chance at some interplay, he's all in.
If a creature takes a chance, he or she is usually at bit intimidated by the cactus' height and all of his spines. And, lets just be honest, he's got a reputation as a bit of a bruiser.
But here's what I know about the Cactus that I just met -- he just wanted to listen. I talked, he gave good audience. He looked me in the eye. He nodded when he thought I needed some encouragement. He didn't monopolize the conversation. He made me feel like what I was saying was important.
What most surprised me was that he was fully present. Never looked over my shoulder to see if there was a more important passerby that he should go schmooze with. And here is what I just couldn't believe -- he never picked up his phone. No joke! Not once did he take a call. Check a text. Google something. Facetime his mom. Tweet his feelings or post on Facebook that he happened to run into me.
Our conversation was in real time. I guess you have to say Cactus is an old fashioned kind of guy. His time in the desert must have given him perspective.
Something in my gut tells me that Cactus is the type of guy who goes away on a weekend trip with his buddies, and he turns his phone off. Like, he brings it and checks in with the wife from time to time, but generally leaves it in his bag.
I'm sure there's a piece of him that wants to keep a real-time dialogue going with his spouse about her day at work, or how the kids are treating her.
There's got to be a nagging feeling to check that email and see if everything is O.K. at work.
And his favorite team, The Pokers, might be in a big series with their rivals, The Splinters, and you'd think he wants to keep tabs on that.
But I guess that desert perspective reminds him to be where he is. If he's on the phone, he's somewhere else. He's socially cyber-commuting. Half of him is away, and half of him is back in the desert. Nobody in either place is getting the full Mr. Cactus.
I know, I know, but Mrs. Cactus wants to be checked in with and not forgotten. Yeah, but Mr. Cactus knows if he gives his wife his full attention every day that he's with her, she will let go and let him give his full attention to everyone else when he is away from her.
Can't be done. These days we're all expected to be plugged in all the time. If you're not on, you're off. You miss a day of someone's life, and you can't get it back. It's never worth knowing every album Paul Anka ever made.
I think what it is, is that the desert has taught him to take his experiences earnestly. Like if it's raining, he'd better drink up some serious water because he might not get any for a while. If a person walks by, he'd better be a good listener, because making friends in the desert is brutal. I know, I know he could just check in on everyone through Facebook, but then he's just socially cyber-commuting from the desert.
