Cool Down, Let Go

In college some friends and I got pulled over for driving around with a busted tail light.  “Here, hold this,” said a girl sitting next to me in the back seat of the car, as she handed me a small bunched up bundle wrapped in plastic.  Then I let go of her as my friend.

Picture me standing in front of you now, squeezing two hot rocks in the palm of my hands.  Ouch, I tell you, I’m in pain.  Of course you’re in pain, you say: those rocks you’re holding onto are burning your skin.

I could just put the rocks down, right? Just open up my hands and let them fall to the ground.  But how will I know I’m there unless I’m holding onto something that hurts?

If my hands are open and free I’ll think – now I’m not enough.  Oh, what’s this here, I’ll say, as I pick up another round black smooth object from the ground?   Nice,  I’ll think.  Heavy.   Perfect for holding onto.

I want to be someone who knows a hot rock when I see one.  I want to learn to take a look at that hot rock and say – oh you’re hot!  And then I want to keep walking.

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