The lever shifted and knocked out of position. It took it a minute to budge into its new notch. The movement was an unsure transition, and when it arrived, it jarred into an unfamiliar spot.
To know of its existence would have benefited us, immensely. The fortitude of a moving day made by reaction was not on any road map I had possessed.
What if this new discovery repositioned our entire life? What if this taught us to be considerably foreign, in our own skin?
Doubtless, there would be any other way to survive the intense impact of the relocation.
New preparations came to surface. Plans I had no clue about were now spilling into an obscure foundation. With hesitation, I trickled into the deep, darkness of the mold.
I bared with heavy breaths and a crippling mind. How safe were the sides of this vat, whose vastness was novel to my own life?
My eyes cased the interior and searched for its nuances. Where were the deformities in the dangers I sought?
For it was with rare company that I expanded my friendships.
A casualty had led me there.
This is what an interruption does, and you aren’t ready to let yourself grow.
Sometimes, you just have to stop.
Stop where you are going.
Stop what you believe in.
Stop a situation.
Right in its tracks.
Because, sometimes, it gets old, stuck into the grooves of rusty repetition. Under normal circumstances, you would at least have a vague idea about which direction you were going. Time on the tracks passed, and life was effortless.
Until, one day, an invisible decay ate its way through the metal bars, beneath. Initially, it didn’t harbor your attention, or restrain you at a stand-still.
It was only a spot, and a small one, at that. And, there was no way that anything that small could destroy your strong, sturdy pipes.
They were made to last forever.
Years of practice skating down the automatic highway had firmed the roadway, proving with enough evidence, that this trajectory was durable for lasting vestige.
The lines never budged. Well, they did, once, but we can blame that anomaly on beginner’s luck.
That was when you were fresh upon the path.
But, without an announcement, something awful happened, and the tracks changed. It’s as though a train conductor deviated your course.
Had he located a switch to flip you to another set of rails? It is a shocking reality that bears witness that nothing lasts forever; not even the road you’re on.
All I ever wanted was to make it.
Was this some device of cosmic relation? Was it conjured up to spoil my attachment to its heroic capabilities?
Whatever it was, it was cruel.
It was devastation.
It was mean.
Because of the absence of the prior notch, there had to exist a new vision based on a new hope. What I had was before; and, it was never coming back.
I sat there as I sank into its newness. My skin twitched with retaliation. Upset were my eyes as they pooled with disgust.
Where was the motivation if you didn’t know what was ahead of you? My dreams were in pursuit, but instantly derailed to assimilate to a section idealized by an advanced imagination.
A distant language was emerging; a gibberish dialect that seemed too jumbled to decipher. And, to understand its meaning meant that I had to go inside— deep, deep inside.
I learned to listen with my head. My heart still denied the fact that I had signed up for this mess, to begin with.
The fears of an aimless voyage rejected my logical truths, while my finicky gut weighed its despair; undecided.
So I charged.
Half daring.
Half carefully.
Into the.
Distance.
Upon the.
Invisible plain.
The fractures of my dim memory mustered the shreds of my uprooted mojo. It intended to mend what it could, but the surgery required tools not yet invented by man.
With no way to fix this problem, would that mean that it was over?
Completely?
Had fate chosen me to participate in this adventure, or had I been selected, randomly, to pursue the experiment?
Maybe there really was no way to fix it. Maybe I really did have to adjust.
Would it compromise my liberty, too much, if I complied with an awkward upheaval? What was I supposed to do?
Nothing made sense.
I scattered the options on the table. I canvassed them, introspectively, touching them with mental visualization.
Conversations loomed about the pros and cons.
Either way meant losing it all. Either way meant that I was destined for some portion of seclusion.
But, should I fight for it? The old and familiar safety of the previous tracks? They were permanent. At least, I thought they were that way.
But, I was wrong.
The cracks mauled me under tension, and emptied me of a soul. I blacked out from my humanness and possessed a peculiar type of being.
It was probable that I’d eventually end up regretting this route. It might even reduce me to a chaotic cycle of painful living, where nothing I perceived felt like it belonged to me.
Where nothing felt like home.
Life fazes me in that regard. For a second, you believe in the permanence of events. That nothing ever evolves, or adjusts, until you get the summons to adapt.
It’s an unforgettable invitation that you can’t be ready enough for. And, that’s when you have to fasten your safety belt and mash the start button.
Because, you have to go. You have to allow. You have to begin. But, then, you have to trust.
You have to trust in the unknown, and believe that the Universe will steer you to where it wants you to continue.
Detachment is the unsung elixir for these irritations.
There is no gentle antacid to lessen the argument of a violent digestion. There is no dipping sauce to ease the spice that pricks the buds of a virgin tongue.
We obviously didn’t get the food we ordered off the menu. Did it get lost in the kitchen? Did the server forget to ring it up?
Because, now we’re staring at a pretty scary plate of weird food, and we don’t know what to do with it.
We don’t know what it is, or where it came from, or why it’s even here. But, it is here. And, now, we have to consume it.
It’s a new recipe; an accidental phenomenon. And, it’s here to teach us of a new flavor.
It really isn’t up for us to decide, then, is it? The value of consequences; the concealed toll of bad judgement calls.
The illusion of expectation is a dance that sways us to determine its outcome. This reliance depends on those results; the ones defined by satisfaction.
But, there is not one thing that we can hold still and keep the same.
Evolution makes us change.
