Saturday, January 7, 2012
In that two hour stretch of too early morning I find myself thinking, if my feet could shout up at my head how many times would they be shouting, "Please don't make me!" or "I'm NOT going there!"
If I heard them, if I listened, how many times would I change my course, back it up, how many ways would I miss every place I needed to go.
I reckon had that feet-shout been heard in my head I would have missed most of the Holy Moly, Holy Sh**, gobsmacked, WTF moments and subsequent enlightenment. I would have missed the bulk of what has taught me, made me smarter and brought me here --- even if here is with my mouth hanging open until I hear that voice from childhood saying, "Shut your mouth or the flies will fly in."
It is a new year and my feet are twitchy, they are no doubt talking to me in sign language and responding to a yesterday written in the oddest of odd, to a day ahead that holds God knows what, and to a year that was often, a trudge dance.
I'm not sure how nuanced the understanding of my thinking feet are, but I'm guessing like the rest of me, they are just hoping to land on solid instead of squishy ground and hoping to find their way through and home.
If my feet could talk and I heard them calling out,
"squishy surreal upfront"
"don't make me"
"backwards, go backwards"
what I would do.
I'm hoping I'd just have enough faith to look down and keep saying "don't fail me now," keep my eyes pealed for the WTF's and remember to periodically shut my mouth.
Posted by Lucie Pollard Branham at 9:09 AM