wrangling into the new

It’s a continuous wiggling and nudging, with the hope that one day it will cause me to slip out of the old and stand fast into a new story. A new reality—one where it no longer be spread out bursts of novel behaviour due to inspired moments, but a continues demonstration of the new.

It’s late and dark. I’m on the train heading home. Nearby, a fellow traveler sits slumped over, speaking into his phone with a tired voice, in a language I don’t understand. His head hangs low, his posture heavy, as if life has been beating down on him for a long time. If there is still a light in his eyes, it would be very dim.

It gets to me, and I feel it in my heart. So, in my imagination, I crawl up to him, meet his gaze warmly, and press my mouth to his chest, blowing warm breath through his clothes and onto his chest. A gesture I’ve been gifted many times by someone I love, especially in moments when I’ve felt heavy or deeply sad. To receive this is both physically and emotionally heartwarming.

It takes courage to do something like this in real life. It’s a vulnerable act. It's not within the behavioural patterns of our culture. What if it backfires? What if it’s too odd for him? What if it’s too far removed from the familiar, the safe, the expected?

It takes effort and inspiration, crawling out of the old, stumbling your way into the new, and then, eventually, falling back down again. I’ve been there, lying back on the ground for years—drained, unsure, doubting. Waiting for some rare spark, some uncommon condition, to reignite the light in my eyes. To inspire me to rise again, to feel that spark, to reach for something grander, more complex, something different.

To be reminded that these novel actions are serving, and that they are more likely to be received well because the intention behind it is good and deep. To rely on the fact that it becomes hard to do harm as the intention, the feeling state, does the heavy lifting. Thus one can become more free and creative on how to approach and serve people in novel ways.

I know when I am close to do it as my palms start to sweat, when I feel I have something to lose, when my heart beats faster. It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff, with shaky legs, but still, knowing I can make the jump.

These interactions, out of the ordinary, outside the cultural norm, carry with them surprise and wonder. It's partly this novelty what makes them potent—they reach deeper depths. They can shake up the internal world, clear away the grey and the mundane, and bring back color, hope and light. A vibrant warm sparkle that can linger around for a long time and that draws closer the new.