When Michael Jackson was a child, his father tormented him about his appearance and called him “big nose.” Michael got four rhinoplasties and fussed over his appearance for the rest of his life.
Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow talle?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the nighttime Whatifs strike again!
...
A ‘what-if’ is a piece of the dark, glistening, tempting and calling to us to follow its momentum down the surge of panic.
What ifs.
A breath, a pause, a moment of centering and after we may be grounded enough to see them for what they represent: a moment of choice.
A choice to come towards oneself, to pivot towards one way or the other. A conscious effort to close one’s eyes, sink into interiority, inch towards the light.
We humans are the only species we know who have the capacity to hope.
“To laugh is to affirm life, even the suffering in life. To play is to affirm chance and the necessity of chance. To dance is to affirm becoming and the being of becoming.”
In 2016, a baby girl named Lynlee was “born” twice. Pediatric surgeons removed her from the womb to cut out a tumor on her spine, and then put her back in the womb. Several weeks later, Lynlee was born healthy.