I’m standing inside a block. Knees bent, one foot in front of the other. Breath and palms pushing. Sweat prickles.
I know this will mean a lot of time and frustration with very little forward motion.
Slabs of white before and behind me, above and below. But the sides are open!
I sidestep into a sunny field of wildflowers. Reds and purples, pink and yellow. I inhale deeply.
Birds trill. Butterflies bounce. Bees buzz.
Blades of grass pulse around me. Do they move because the breeze moves them? Or the almost invisible insects? Or is it as a result of their very own energy as they stretch their necks towards the sun?
My questions remain unanswered, my wants are unclear. Can I wait to be moved by the forces, always propelled in the right direction? Bask in nature and hope for divine inspiration?
Or do I climb back into the four-faced block and continue pushing and perspiring? I don’t want to delude myself, wasting time. At least I’d be praised for my efforts as I try to take life seriously.
I should forge my way, make things happen. Create the life I truly desire. If I could finally decide.
But who wants to be blinded by white plastic when beauty flashes at the corners of the eyes?
The fresh air is too good to give up. I gulp it in. It’s life-affirming even if I don’t know what, where, when I want for my life.
So I belly flop into the wildlife, eyes and heart open.