alice, dog teeth and the toaster
Tenacious. Someone once called me tenacious. I looked it up in the dictionary to be exact about it, to make sure it was a compliment as that same mouth had also called me fickle.
When I think of tenacious I see dog's teeth, an open jaw. A way to hold on. To a stick, a bone, the leg of a burglar. then my own small hands on a tree branch, rubbing against the bark as my body swings heavy back and forth under me.
I've always been proud that someone associated that word with me. Even when it had an edge of unreasonableness about it's application.
Now, Alice, she was a tenacious girl. But she knew when to let go, turn around, walk away. She never seemed to give up though, just knew when to fold. Tenacious in the way she held onto the dream, even though being in it led her often head long into dangerous situations, pointless situations, unreasonable situations. But she seemed to have this innate ability to just....identify when it was time to move on. And she moved on until she was through to the other side of her determination, to the finish line, to the square where that crown appears on her head. I'd like to have that ability. I've been thinking about it alot lately. That perfect sense of timing and direction, leading to a movement, never wandering too far from the goal. She seems fearless but I don't think that can be the truth of her inside. I think it has more to do with some kind of internal compass that had a blind sort of faith that what she wanted would be done. There's a natural blindness we can have with youth which lets us proceed without being aware of the consequences, or improbability of attaining something satisfactory. THe grownup version is a little harder to consciously nourish if you've been stung too often by your own recklessness, the use of that blind will without any consideration of what you're going after. After you've nourished caution, or a certain carefulness things get more complicated.
So, I'm thinking about Alice, about how I would like to turn back the clock a little and find that tenacious ability again. Trying to locate that feeling of swinging on that branch, back and forth, bark scraping against my palms and instead of just staying there knowing that being there leads to a choice to hold on or let go and to just see that as two equal options, and not as a choice between a danger or a safety.
I'm thinking about this as I root around in the toaster in the dark, trying to pry my breakfast out with a knife.
When I think of tenacious I see dog's teeth, an open jaw. A way to hold on. To a stick, a bone, the leg of a burglar. then my own small hands on a tree branch, rubbing against the bark as my body swings heavy back and forth under me.
I've always been proud that someone associated that word with me. Even when it had an edge of unreasonableness about it's application.
Now, Alice, she was a tenacious girl. But she knew when to let go, turn around, walk away. She never seemed to give up though, just knew when to fold. Tenacious in the way she held onto the dream, even though being in it led her often head long into dangerous situations, pointless situations, unreasonable situations. But she seemed to have this innate ability to just....identify when it was time to move on. And she moved on until she was through to the other side of her determination, to the finish line, to the square where that crown appears on her head. I'd like to have that ability. I've been thinking about it alot lately. That perfect sense of timing and direction, leading to a movement, never wandering too far from the goal. She seems fearless but I don't think that can be the truth of her inside. I think it has more to do with some kind of internal compass that had a blind sort of faith that what she wanted would be done. There's a natural blindness we can have with youth which lets us proceed without being aware of the consequences, or improbability of attaining something satisfactory. THe grownup version is a little harder to consciously nourish if you've been stung too often by your own recklessness, the use of that blind will without any consideration of what you're going after. After you've nourished caution, or a certain carefulness things get more complicated.
So, I'm thinking about Alice, about how I would like to turn back the clock a little and find that tenacious ability again. Trying to locate that feeling of swinging on that branch, back and forth, bark scraping against my palms and instead of just staying there knowing that being there leads to a choice to hold on or let go and to just see that as two equal options, and not as a choice between a danger or a safety.
I'm thinking about this as I root around in the toaster in the dark, trying to pry my breakfast out with a knife.