Do a rope

How to do a rope.

A spider web, invisibly interconnected,

Points intertwined

Becomes visible only upon close examination

Or when the misting morning fog settles

On the strands

And makes it impossible to miss the tapestry

The design of life

Entirely, totally random

And yet not.

Two points connected by a thread

The vibrations picked up, transmitted

between the two.

There’s more than you can see,

there’s always more than you can see.

We all claw along our strings,

going this way or that.

Pulling ourselves

up or

down or

side to side

With intention.

“But, I have no control,” you say.

Just because you can’t see

doesn’t mean it’s not there.

Try this,

Do a rope.

Hold a rope in your hands,

grasp it firmly and with all your might,

every last resource of your being,

use it to try and push yourself away.

The rope will flop, lifeless and limp, and you won’t move an inch,

no matter how hard you try.

Now, pull the rope to you.

Use all your strength, all your purpose,

and focus and bravado and charm.

One of two things will happen.

You’ll stay exactly where you are

pulling the rope to you,

piling it on the ground at your feet,

going nowwhere.


You’ll start moving, but only if

your rope is tied to something


or someone.


Sometimes, you’ll start moving,

pulling yourself along the rope,

toward the end.

Sometimes, you’ll stay still,

pulling the end towards yourself.

And sometimes, you and the end,

will both move, inch by inch,

toward each other.

That’s life.

That’s how to do a rope.

Author: jamesflawith

I am attempting to raise 3 young boys with my wife while running 2 totally different companies. One way I try to stay sane is by writing. Notice the word "try" in there.

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