Lessons Of The Fall

 

Composure and how to maintain it throughout a miscalculation of sorts leading to a domino-ish breakdown of orders deliberately straying from your original intent which was to get to the kitchen from the living room minus an Oscar winning performance of falling down. In other terms falling over, tripping, falling flat. Physically falling, the kind Hollywood production companies pay good money for stunt persons to perform. The kind that you get up from and can chuckle though you know there are bruises forming up bluer than one of Dr. Oz’s sets on coagulation. The kind that takes your breath away and steals the show, interruptive, a little obscene if you’re wearing a short skirt, slow, unscripted, underrated performance, no applaud at the end and not to mention with an un-readied speech you were unprepared and because you met the floor face-to-face greeting it with “&h*!…that didn’t just happen”!

The living room as your stage, folks previously and peacefully watching TV, and an attention seeking moment that would prove to be so demanding that it be noticed and integrated into their psyche as to what not to reproduce, but should they in the future be as brave or seemingly drunk (which by the way and embarrassingly no alcohol was used in the making of this particular plunge), here are few DIY rules.

These then are the lessons of the fall. First thing you need to know is realize that this is going to happen and there is no stopping or turning back or redo. This is it. The second thing you need to grasp is that with nothing there to grasp to try and stop your fall – bargain with the trip master or the edge of the coffee table about how to fall with grace. Negotiate the terms later, but during the slow motioned leap and you’re seeing your pre-bruisy life span out in front of you– settle on no broken bones and or lasting scars. As you’re falling – succumb (this is a word for another post and for some other time) …so succumb and make peace with the falling– embrace it, leisure in it, pretend you really are a stunt person and that you are on camera. Realizing it isn’t up to us anymore, there is a release and letting go of the reins, letting go of control, letting go of a little of your lunch. Looking back –its kind of beautiful.

Once you’re down and you’re smelling the earth or the floorboards– this is where you come in. I suggest you are deliberate now in the choice words or sounds that follow. Will you be hero and jump back to an upright stance, hands on hips as though nothing transgressed. Or will you stay down, blaming ill-positioned furniture feng-shui-ed wrongly, conjuring up old fights with family, especially in-laws not even present at the time of the event, use impressive swears in front of your steadily internet-brainwashed kiddies, bang your fists to the floor and let out sounds of the sore losing variety.  Or will you pick yourself up, brush yourself off (freakin’ cat hair in your mouth– pull that out) and start all over again. Composed, cool as a cucumber, reassure others you’re alright, pass the alcohol home kit test, walk the chalk line your toddler drew on the floor for you and remember what you got up for in the first place before you hit your head a little.

You’re fine, people around you never looked better than when you’re still in a daze and just coming back from a fall. Go with this for a while until it wears off. Last and most impactful lesson here is, while you’re wearing the color purple on an elbow, a fall of that caliber tends to separate the friends from the foes for you bringing out their own true colors. The ones still laughing it up at your expense and belittling you are the first ones you’ll want to try that new hex on. Just kidding, or am I? Now, now remember composure wins the race.  Last lesson… never race into your kitchen– wrong direction. You want to race to your nearest trip-adviser and book the right kind of trip.

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