I don’t want to be the quivering cup of water, however ominous it may be.
I don’t want to be the people in the jeep cowering at the quivering water.
I want to be the T Rex, careening towards them, roaring and smashing trees.
I want to leave big, muddy, imposing footprints.
Sure, one reason is because the T Rex is super cool. But also because that T Rex is loud and messy and crazy and perfect. She was hatched into that weird, confining environment, and her food is too fast and it’s really irritating.
And in the end, aren’t we all the T Rex? Don’t we all want to make ourselves heard like that, to some extent? Life is frustrating for us all, don’t we all want to channel that energy into a nice solid roar, preferably one that shakes the whole forest?
Making an impact, being heard, is a need that can’t be underestimated. I know that when I dream, I don’t dream of being cared for. I dream of relevance – specifically, relevance in the spheres that matter to me. I want Jeff Goldblum to care when I chase his jeep, you know?
But really we don’t need something so macroscopic as a gigantic tail and reptilian frame. Sometimes you can feel the impact you make even on a tiny, microscopic level.
In fact, even the shortest, most inconsequential walk outside can help. If I have a chance, I prefer to walk on the ground, rather than pavement. Pavement is so stiff and sterile, your impact just comes right back into your joints (anyone who also has ankle or knee pain will agree.) But walk on ground, and your impact goes into the earth and all the living things within it. You make a little echo that vibrates out into the unknown. It’s no squishy huge muddy T Rex print, but it’ll do.
A yoga mat’s squishiness reminds me of that earth. It’s totally artificial, of course, but bringing it into class is like bringing your own little version of the ground: malleable, movable, forgiving. Imprintable.
But if all else fails, I’ll quake with fear at your big muddy footprints if you quake at mine, ok?