Trust your inner rope (and ankles).
There is never a clean, linear way to dissect one’s most profound struggles. The intersections between choice, genetics, luck, and perseverance are pretzeled with no way to neatly unfurl one thread so as to clear the path for another to fix itself. This is just the way it is- we learn to resolve one thread’s twists and tangles for the sake of another, or in spite of another, or at the risk of breaking another. In the best of times, one or more threads become stronger from the tension of being pulled in that attempt to be free from the others; even if the freedom doesn’t come, the strength gained acts as a buoy for the host. A tightrope that keeps just one’s feet underwater, rather than their knees. The balance needed to stay at that height, with just ankles submerged, is a muscle memory. Like a progressive overload, the ankle sinews coil and grow, further anchoring the legs at a seemingly level, stable, safe height, and they pull one foot in front of the other. As time passes, the weaker threads maybe are forgotten for a moment here and there, and start to fray. The fray takes time; it may be years before the last twine snaps. Or maybe it snaps sooner but the recoil causes it to whiplash around and pretzel onto another thread, thereby opening a tiny gate in the web that sets up the route for the fatal snap, still years away. Not a collapsed wall, per se, just an enclosed tear, like a non-structural beam fallen. So the host feels a twinge and the ankles sink an inch, but no alarm bells. Still well above water, still moving forward with aplomb.
Then without warning, the tightrope bows, rushing the host down until their waist is submerged in water. But hands are free, raised above the head, and chest and neck are puffed, chin is high. Heart rate quickens. Yet one can feel the ascent on the rope below their feet and knows this is so very temporary- just one foot in front of the other and slowly but definitely the waist, then thighs, then knees will emerge out of the water. Not the most steady, but balanced at least, and believes in the ankle strength to resume forward momentum. In the clear again, with the sudden dip a reminder (and it’s already in the past, so it can be reduced to benign) that just because one has strong ankles and feels like they can walk forever, with care, even the most care cannot stop a fraying rope.
I had a dip on Friday night but my rope was quickly, mercifully, yanked out of the water so my waist was barely wet, but the damp lingered. I shook it off (literally) and was fine (outwardly) but the pretzel knots (inside) are hot to the touch, and burning. I know that some of you, readers, are also wringing out the heavy water from your soaked hems. It will dry. Your ankles will fortify. The rope will support you.
The fashion world reverberated this week with the news of Alessandro Michele’s departure from Gucci, and I was particularly touched by this homage from Tamu McPherson.
This photo collection of an NYC gone by is giving me MOOD.
Pretty much always.
Truly makes a tedious routine taste better.
As a hairstylist, I can’t help but cast my eye sideways when I see a “fancy” (aka overpriced) version of a utilitarian hair tool- so I’ll just say I saw the fancy something (chances are good they’ll *magically* appear in your social media feed now) and then decided to find the utilitarian version. I bought them on Amazon, but I hope you’ll join me in appreciating the mom’n’pop feel of the original site (which I would’ve ordered from, if they offered the option!)
See you next week. -Kai
P.S. Inspirational. If you’re not pro-union, can you tell me your reason(s)? Let’s discuss.