What if your house was on fire?
Those you love are still inside.
Or, maybe they aren’t.
They’re all outside, safe.
It’s you who’s trapped.
What do you do?
Do you sit down and wait for someone to come get you?
No way. You’ve got to get out of here.
You aren’t going down this way.
You’re going to find an exit.
Quick, to the front door. No good. It’s blocked by flames. Same for the back door. Maybe a window? First one’s painted shut. So is the second. The others you can’t get to. The smoke is thick. All this running around is working against you. You crouch to the floor. Lying on your stomach you look around and wonder how you got here. You notice the pedestal ash tray that used to preside in your grandparent’s living room. That marble base could break out a window lickity split. But the ash tray won’t likely survive.
Smash.
You don’t even give it a thought. You break that window. As you climb to safety you catch your leg on some glass. Small price. You’re huddled back where you belong.
The will to survive is strong. You’ll do anything to do so. It’s honorable in a life-or-death situation. The same drive can sabotage you in your day-to-day. Here, the will to survive actually works against you. Not always, but often. Instead of doing whatever it takes, you fall back on routines and assumptions. About yourself. About others. About everything you’ve already made your mind up about. You let blind spots and filters run your thinking. You knew something once so forever it will be that way. No need to be open to new perspective or information. Someone once acted a certain way? Forever they will act that way in spite of evidence there’s more to them than you initially observed.
In the fire, the will to survive compels liberty. More often though it’s inclined to imprison you in a cell of comfort. The cell comes complete with a complimentary view convincing enough to glimmer a glamour of satisfaction. But it’s really a slow death. One day you just run out of oxygen. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. You’ll just get sleepy.
Maybe instead you should approach it as if your house was on fire.
Because, in a way, it is.
So what will you do when everything is an option?
Go ahead, pick up the ash tray. Gramma won’t mind. She just wants you to feel alive.
And she’s not the only one.
