We often think about the path to rock bottom as a free fall into the abyss and a sudden crash at a distant bottom. Sometimes this is the case. Far more common, however, is a downward staircase to the fiery depths of a hellish existence, slowly grilling in the heat of life.
The great author, Charles Bukowski, wrote it best in his poem, The Shoelaces, when he said,
It’s not the large things that send a man to the madhouse. Death he’s ready for, or murder, incest, robbery, fire, flood… no, it’s the continuing series of small tragedies that send a man to the madhouse… not the death of his love but a shoelace that snaps with no time left…
The poem goes on to list all the small tragedies of life, such as switching on a light bulb only to have it flicker and die. The speeding ticket. And, if I should take liberties, then pen that stops writing. A meal that burns. A blocked toilet.
In my case, we had lost our home and were living in guesthouses with our children. This was a massive problem, but as Bukowski said, a mean is ready for this. In dire straits, one day a client called and a chance at income emerged. Eager to make it on time, I was stopped by police who appeared as if out of nowhere. I was speeding and it became my first time hearing, “You have the right to remain silent…”
I was charged with reckless driving, and what I thought was rock bottom hollowed out and became worse. I hustled to raise money for bail and started attending court hearings. Yes, money that was meant for bread, petrol to take kids to school, and other small things.
Then my daughter said, “Dunn, I miss our old house ‘cause I could play in the sandpit.”
It dawned on me that rock bottom has no bottom. Things can get infinitely worse. A good response to a bad state of affairs, therefore, is to decide to make things better, one small improvement at a time.
So, in the week ahead, look for the small things. Fix one. And if you can, fix another one.
Vusi
