Monday, May 30, 2011


Had I not fallen on my ass about 20 times, and flat out on my belly at least twice, I would not truly comprehend the meaning of gravity. Gravity is hard and it happens fast. It doesn't care if you are carrying your favorite tomatoe plant or if you are walking your dogs. And almost always there is evidence of gravity; for example moist soil in the back of your pants from falling backwards on said tomatoe plant. Or muddy grass on your chin and hands from slipping while walking those dogs. Other evidence includes minor scrapes and bruises, but never sorrow. I refuse to feel bad or sad about falling down. In some twisted way it is a priviledge; how many people do you know who fall down regularly and get to experience the joy of getting back up? Or, who do you know who knows what it feels like to fall on concrete and scrape their wrist so it bleeds? There's a quote from a song I like, "you bleed just to know you're alive." I love that quote. It's like, what's the alternative to getting old? Getting dead. What's the alternative to gravity? Falling down and staying down. No way.