I eventually wonder where this specific context lies, for every context contains ten thousand situations; more. Which piece sticks me? I’m facing south, not north. Feet up, not down. Leaning back, not forward. Barefoot, not shod. In a rented room rather than home. Which specific rules this situation, and which shifted specific might unstick me this time?

The answer might not matter, though the question probably does. Achieving that elusive awareness of the situation might matter most. To notice, then question. Stuckness might be distracted attention: over-focusing upon one piece to the detriment of the whole, though someone as talented as me can usually manage to get stuck in the forest as easily as I get stuck up a tree. Both forest and tree exist simultaneously, though my attention seems to stick me either here or there, forgetful that perception doesn’t determine the limits of potential. Turning my head could change my world.

Unstuck might requite no more than one tiny twist within this infinite network of infinitesimal details. The potential might always be swelling around me, but until I can distinguish ‘this,’ ‘that’ doesn’t stand a chance of emerging. I could change my socks and shift the whole situation. But unless I notice, “Oh, I’m wearing those same socks I always wear,” could it occur to me to try a red pair today?

Stuck might be evidence of something out-of-context. I suspect that many of my habits continually encourage me out of some context, but the nature of the habitual encourages me not to notice context. Nobody ever suspects that their lucky tee shirt has lost its magic touch.

I mostly tend to get unstuck through inadvertent changes. That day my lucky tee shirt doesn’t come back from the laundry ends up being an unexpectedly lucky one. My perspective, not the situation, usually holds the resolution of my stuckness, though I’m more likely to curse the world than my own two eyes.

©2012 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: Unstuck Stuck Consulting