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Unstuck 1.9: Stucked

I create my own sticking points with such dazzling skill that it seems as though someone else just has to be conspiring against me. So far, though, whenever I’ve poked around any personal stuckness I’ve found my own fingerprints all over the crime scene. I have no clue how I’ve been so uniquely blessed with this ability to hog-tie myself without ever catching on that I’m doing the tying again. Later, once I’m stuck, I might be able to lever myself back into motion, but in the moment before I mire in, I rarely catch myself ensnaring myself.

I’m stucked.

It might be true that all the great difficulties are personal, like all politics are local, but they don’t seem to be. Played against a distracting backdrop, it’s easy to interpret background for foreground. It might be true that most difficulties come from some form of figure-ground confusion, where the past casts shadows into future space or some looming future spooks the present. I say ‘might’ because I don’t know. I say ‘might’ because I’m speaking of the unknowable.

Stuck might be unavoidable, undiagnosable in its earliest stages. The human condition. And finding myself ‘stucked’ again might be an indivisible piece of what appears as continuous flowing from thirty thousand feet above the muck. It’s too serious to be taken too seriously. Too important to lend too awfully much importance to. There’s stuck, then there’s stuck with stuck: stucked.

A light heart might lever loose any load.

©2012 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

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