El Mundo Malo and El Mundo Bueno live right on top of each other. Their edges bleed together; the film between these two worlds a thin sheath. So without much effort you can slip from one to the other.
El Mundo Malo is walking through quicksand, so once you slip through, cunning, faith, hope, and the exercising of a certain muscle are required to get you out. Depending on the intensity of the quicksand, how hard you stumble through and with what force you fall, hope and faith can be difficult to grab for. Muscles fatigue and fail.
But the film is flimsy, and even up to her ankles in sludge, she can still see the entryway back to El Mundo Bueno. It’s the sun that streams down every block, the palm kisses and hushed whispers of things too exciting to scream. It’s her best foot forward, body poised for the potential of perfection, head haloed in a better light.
She can live there. She can learn to manifest and select from the world of possibilities, to allow divergence deliver her next step.
But the film is flippant and dissolves at the slightest brush of an elbow. The worlds live right on top of each other. El Mundo Malo is right beyond the blink of an eye – in the droplets of a cold shower that’s meant to be hot. In the sun that didn’t shine, in the bills you forgot about and the what-if worry-list so vast it fills entire afternoons.
The good news is that muscles develop with practice, and it is in the moving between these two worlds that she learns to ascend to El Mundo Bueno each time with more grace and ease. So every slip, fall, stumble and brush is a welcomed workout.
Let me learn to know this movement with every molecule. To memorize the steps, the sequence, and the muscles required. Let me repeat and repeat so that this dance becomes effortless, so that I can step away and notice the grace, the intricacy, the flow – the beautiful movement of life and living.
february 11, 2013