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Some People are Circles; Some, Lines

By Vicki Sairs

This article was originally published in The Mobile Register, Mobile, Alabama, March 9, 2000. Courtesy of the Mobile Register 2000? All rights reserved. Reprinted with permission.

If you look at the universe as a work of art, and at life as a course in art appreciation, it makes some things easier to bear. I'm thinking about the fact that people seem to come in two varieties: those who move in a straight line, and those who go in circles.

Circles and lines are basic elements in visual art, used by the artist to give form and substance, to set a scene, tell a story, or suggest a mood. Circularity and linearity can be definitional traits in that most peculiar piece of artwork, the human personality.

Straight-line types are goal-oriented individuals; they get up in the morning, get dressed right away, and are out the door before their circular counterparts have dithered around long enough to locate their coffee cup. Circle types are not bad or lazy people; they just spend most of their life in a state of mild confusion, as in "Now, let's see, what's next here? Breakfast? No, I need to get dressed first. Oh, my, the bed isn't made yet ... now wait, how did that thing get here?" A kind way to say it is that circle types spend a lot of time in thought.

At our house, there are three linear people and two circular people, which makes getting out the door for church on Sunday morning an interesting and sometimes fractious affair. One person moving in dilatory circles can slow a family down; two can paralyze it.

My theory is that it's all a reflection of the way our brains are wired. My brain, for instance, has a set of tracks that run around inside my head, like a rollercoaster of the mind, curving up and down, but mostly going round and round. This is where my thoughts ride, manic little captives, clinging tightly to the safety bar and screaming till they're hoarse.

My husband, the original goes-in-a-straight-line guy, has a different theory. He thinks it goes back to the Tower of Babel. Some people, he says, got "extra-cursed." Or extra-confused, as the case may be.

A good example of our different approaches to the art of living would be the way we packed for our recent Ohio adventure. My husband went up two weeks before we did. The day before he left, he disappeared for about 20 minutes, then came back in the living room and announced that he was all packed.

I stared in dumbstruck awe. Getting ready for a trip occupies my mental and physical energies for days ahead of time. This is due, in part, to my going in circles, but it's also because I pack for all contingencies. I wouldn't want to be unprepared for a blizzard, for instance. How would I feel if my children lost their toes to frostbite because I had forgotten to pack extra woolen socks?

Two weeks passed and, not surprisingly, I found myself staring at stacks of unpacked clothing which were occupying my bed at an hour when I should have been, especially considering that I wanted to leave for Ohio at dawn the next day. (Note: circular people often find themselves staring at stacks of things).

Left on my own, with no linear help from my mate, I stood on the brink of the circular abyss. Not to worry. I peered over the edge, took a deep breath, and said, "So I won't leave at dawn." Circle types learn to be flexible.

And their linear mates learn to go along for the ride, which is not always an exercise in frustration. Sometimes, they see things they would have missed if they'd kept going in a straight line.

So here we are on this earth, a bunch of circles and lines spiraling around and intersecting each other's sensibilities, somehow managing to build our lives together. It has a certain beauty, and I would not be surprised if the artist behind it all did it this way on purpose.

Vicki Sairs served as a column and feature writer for The Mobile Register in Mobile, Alabama, prior to the Sairs family's move to London, Ohio, in 2002. She is the director of the Madison Pregnancy Care, and is also a part-time faculty member at Rosedale Bible College.


Originally published in the November 2004 issue of the Brotherhood Beacon. Used by permission.

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