Floorboards creak under my bare feet
Inviting the past to creep up through
The cracks and crevices
Running like veins through
tarnished oak, splintered
with stories of pitter and patter
Touching the soles of soul after soul
Some desperate for the foundation
To open wide and swallow them whole
Long panels meet cornered molding
For the first time
It would seem
Unclear as to who provides the adhesive
What can only be assumed to be
Longitude and latitude colliding
To form a perfect enclosure.
there’s just about nothing
about nothing, just about
or the uncompromising pull
of needing this to be anything
but nothing, everything but
I’ll take a walk instead
backwards, not to trip on
your shoelaces. They’re always
I’ll be moving too quickly away
to help you fasten loose ends.
We tend to ignore the sensations that heed our most defining moments.
A subtle sinking of our stomachs, the slight furrow in our brow as we struggle to make sense of the sudden unwelcome sense of unsettlement. That heat that gathers behind our eyes warning of the flood of tears to come, so confidently assuring us there is nothing to be done to keep them at bay. Objects and faces that up to this pivotal point provided normalcy, comfort, security, and even happiness, suddenly feel out of place, as if we are witnessing the light land on them for the first time.
We experience these responses to change time and time again in our lives. The panic floods over us all at once, as if our bodies are rejecting the idea before the mind has a chance to wrap a coherent thought around it. The lump rises up in our throats, the stinging behind our eyes and a very sudden, very strong aversion to the thought of food as our stomachs hit the floor. Even when the change that is in front of us not being forced upon us, the reaction is the same – something new, something unknown to be feared.
When faced with a choice – one that asks us to deviate so suddenly and unexpectedly from where we stand – our stomachs sink, our brows furrow, and we label these sensations as signs of warning. Instinctive and habitual, we gravitate toward these familiar and initial reactions to change, clinging to them as if they are the only emotions we are capable of. Relying wholeheartedly on the instinctive message being sent to our brains, we immediately retreat.
But what if the impending tears and sinking stomachs are instead a sign that something is coming, something great? With rapid change hurling itself in our direction at full speed – what if we choose instead to explore, reflect, inspect, and question what is happening? Reading the signals of response in a context of fear, could mean missing out on the many defining moments that we derive from such experiences. So, rather than deciding that we are bound to meet our impending doom, let’s instead recognize and embrace the moments leading to greatness – no matter how hard our stomachs hit the floor.