To a Furrow-Browed Perfectionist, Who Studies Too Much

I learned an important lesson from someone who paid $600 to join a cult for a couple days. (maybe not one of those super radical ones, but enough that France thinks so).

This morning, you dressed yourself in plaid not stripes, and the choice you made was right. Every daring confession and dinosaur dream mumbled in vulnerable unconsciousness was said just in time and with poignant purpose. You choose one city of elaborate architecture over another and immediately you are where you belong.

The world spins, supposedly, with gravitational, tidal and convectional intention to keep our feet on earth. Have faith that Newtonian apples fallen were meant to cause revelation. Let the exclusion of stripes strip the reservation from plaid. Forget buyer’s remorse.

And I know well enough that you measure jumps with yard sticks, calculating distances, parabolas, on Excel spreadsheets, risk versus reward- graphed in pies and lines, tabulated. But sometimes when you’re too high to see the paths below splitting with just an inkling of where you should land, you should just maybe hold your breath and jump. Land infallibly- you always do.


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