Spiral Into Control

Centripetal Force

Give me hopscotch. Draw the lines. Set the boundaries. I see the structure. I know what I’m working with. Let me toss a bit of chance into the matrix. I throw it out there. I see where it lands. I hop and fly, maybe dance, maybe flail. At least my feet land within the squares. I know where I’m going, so I keep jumping. I make it through the map. I already want to do it again.

There is a time to free fall.

Spiral.

My parachute opens. I land on the marked ground. Hopscotch.

Give me roller skating. Draw the lines. Set the boundaries. I see the structure. I know what I’m working with. There is the rink. I see the walls. They guide the way. One wall is carpet. A common direction of flow is established. I find my balance. The music hijacks my body. I bounce and dance, speed up, slow down. I notice the space in the middle of the oval. I want to stop there and practice a spin. I know where I’m going, so I keep skating. I make it around the oval. I already want to do it again.

There is a time to stay still.

Spiral.

I find my center. My center rolls with the center of others. Roller skating.

Give me macaroons. Draw the lines. Set the boundaries. I see the structure. I know what I’m working with. The recipe only allows a certain part of the egg into the bowl with a specific amount of salt. It seems restrictive, but then those two run wild together until they become whippy like clouds. In another bowl, thick, sweet milk and vanilla join the party. A specific amount of coconut flakes brings it all together like a room full of confetti. Fill that party with those whippy clouds like a fog machine. Stir, stir, stir. I know where I’m going, so I keep dolloping. I pull the pan of baked dollops out of the oven. I already want to do it again.

There is a time to be without measure.

Spiral.

I am free here. I can love now. Macaroons.

Give me a pool. Draw the lines. Set the boundaries. I see the structure. I know what I’m working with. I jump recklessly into the water. I can swim all the way to the bottom and touch the edges. With a set amount of chlorine and minerals, the pool stays clear. I launch from the floor of the pool pushing with the bottom of my feet. I know where I’m going, so I keep kicking. I breach the surface of the water with a smiling inhale. I already want to do it again.

There is a time to be taken by the wave.

Spiral.

I crash when the wave releases me. Tears come streaming. A pool.

Give me nothing. Erase the lines. Remove the boundaries. I can’t find the structure. I don’t know what I’m working with. Is there something to be made, seen, experienced, or felt? What is the material? What is the environment? I don’t want too much. I don’t want too little. Is there a reference? One cocktail is warm and lovely. Three pulls of rum before work each morning is my slow death. I don’t know where I’m going, so I keep drinking. I finish the bottle. I never want to do it again.

There is a time to unravel.

Spiral.

I wave my white flag. I grieve everything I thought I knew. Nothing.

Yes, I roller skate, and yes my roller skates have yellow and fuchsia wheels.