Very few things make me feel out of control. Childbirth is definitely one of them; the experience is so extreme, it takes you to the edge, without the possibility of turning back.
Some endeavors take just about everything I’ve got to see them to fruition; but still, I have a sense of control, because there’s always an exit plan. I dig how amusement parks offer exit gates, for the person who chickens out at the last minute.
As children, it never took long to find each kid’s limit, when we’d play truth or dare, or say uncle. My brothers would submit me to extreme torcher, to see how much I could handle. I had endurance, but there was always some threshold, when I’d begin to feel out of control, that I’d inevitably scream, uncle!
Unless you’re a poor sport, games testing control limits can be fun, and offer practice for future situations in life. But not all situations.
Life will deliver some people to the gates of hell, without them flinching, or feeling out of control, while others have a bad hair day, and the whole world turns upside down for them. When a person falls, and are subjected to the force of gravity, no one’s in control, except gravity. It’s the same way, when falling in love.
Falling in love seems to be the universal, common way to convey to others what is going on when you realize you love someone, romantically – people know exactly what you’re talking about. Some will console you, while others grin and celebrate what they know is to come; love is a beautiful thing, offering soul expansion, and joy. On the flipside, you don’t always know what will become of it, or how it will develop.
My 11-year-old fell smack on his face the other day playing football. I had to keep an eye on him to make sure the knot on his head wasn’t a sign he’d gotten a concussion. I asked him what I thought to be the obvious question, “why didn’t you break your fall, instead of landing on your head?” He said he was having too much fun, and was concentrating on catching the ball, not where his head would land.
I suppose the most I can hope for, is to remember to break my fall in the event I’m about to land on my head, and to be a good sport. It helps to know I have had six informative lessons on love, giving me a better chance to stay in the game, and have some fun.
Even though I don’t feel in control, that’s not necessarily a bad thing – being in control has never proven to be a good thing. And, while gravity and I haven’t negotiated terms, I’m willing to take the fall, and see where I land.