The weight.
You can’t see it specifically. Or hear it. Well. Not exactly.
It has a blue million definitions. Weight’s main meaning … …. is a body’s relative mass or the quantity of matter contained by it, giving rise to a downward force. He’s not heavy… he’s my brother… or a quantity of matter.
A quantity of matter. A rise… to the downward force. The weight.
Like I said, you can’t really see it. I am talking about the weight that so many of us feel from time to time. That “something” which burdens us.. or encumbers us. It could be anything.
We’ve found out that someone we love is ill. Or… the bills are piling up. The roof has a leak. Perhaps the car needs new tires. A parent just died. Or a parrot. We don’t really want to meet that friend for lunch tomorrow. We need a vacation. The dog threw up on the couch. Our backs hurt. The world situation troubles us.
The weight. That quantity of matter…. the things that matter to us.
So we feel it. Heavy on our shoulders, or turning in our stomachs… or making that dull ache come back in our heads.
I said a moment ago… that you can’t really see it. Oh, but sometimes you can. Have you ever been walking in a public place and spotted someone who looks like they have the weight of the world on their shoulders? It is probably because they do.
That’s the thing. All of us have known the weight from time to time. Some of us feel it…. in some way, some how, each and every day. It depends a lot on the person, and it depends on the circumference of things.
When we are carrying the burden, when we are constantly shouldering the load, or holding the albatross… it becomes very difficult to pick up anything else. We can’t embrace the good things in life, because our arms are so full with the heavy loads we feel in our lives. It is hard to smell the roses when your nostrils are packed shut with cotton balls.
Some of us may be familiar with some version of the “Drop the Rock” parable.
It’s about some people. On a boat. Good, happy, people on their way to the Great Island of Goodness. And away they go… pulling away from the shore. One of their pals comes running down the dock… late as hell for the boat. Gertie. She is always late.
Sooooo…. the people on the boat cheer her on. “Dive in and swim, Gert!” they shout. “You can do it!” Gertie the Gamer. Heck yeah. She dives right into the water and swims for the boat as fast and hard as she can.
I mean.. they are serving those cute little finger sandwiches with extra mayo… AND Kit-Kat Bars on the boat. Who wouldn’t swim like a Banshee? Any way… she gets close to the boat… but she slows up…. and struggles to stay afloat.
Everyone on board can see why. There is a big old heavy rock hanging from a snarl of strings around Gerties’s little scrawny neck. So the good people on the boat… they all begin to shout…. “Drop the rock!” is what they all shout. “Let go! Drop the rock!”
Treading water, Gert looks down at the rock. The weight. The quantity of matter. She realizes it contains her fear, resentments, self-pity, anger, intolerance, and so many other character flaws. And then…. she really sees it. The realization. If she doesn’t let go….. she will drown.
Gertie. Always late. But smart too. She tears off the strings, holds the rock away from her body, and lets it go. Ahhhh. Free. Free from the the heavy and useless weight. And she begins to swim again. This time, easily. Gertie swims the rest of the way to the boat. And climbs aboard… on her way to the Isle of Snap-Happy-Smell-The-Roses-And-See-The-Light.
Not to mention the Kit Kats… and finger sandwiches.
If we can find a way to let go of the weight, we can swim. Drop the rock. Lose the weight. If we hold on, we sink to the deep dark cold depths. If we let go, we swim … and we are free to feel, to pick up all the good little things… to feel the joy of the moment.
Drop the rock, and meet the world with open arms. We really should.
“We’re so busy watching out for what’s just ahead of us that we don’t take time to enjoy where we are.”
― Bill Watterson
“Do anything, but let it produce joy.”
― Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
“What day is it?”
It’s today,” squeaked Piglet.
My favorite day,” said Pooh.”
― A.A. Milne