The Genius that Is You

If it hasn’t yet, sometime it will happen.

Life is being life. Time is passing. Then snap, tug. Someone or something will pull the rug out from under you.

Blindsided. Unexpected. The floor’s gone and the ground went with it. Unless your world is perfectly balanced—whose is perfectly balanced?—you find yourself like Alice falling to places unknown. Suddenly life is not the same. Time slows. It slows, almost stopping. You try to make sense of it, but nothing’s there. Nothing’s there. Your brain is a blank. You almost aren’t there. You are numb. Questions assault you. Answers watch.

You’re still aware that 2 follows 1, but aren’t sure who you see when you look in the mirror. If your world wasn’t real, maybe you weren’t real either. It’s the personal equivalent of finding out the world’s not round or the sky’s not blue. You’d be knocked on your ass, but the ground went away with the rug where you once stood.

You carve a cave out of rock and nail a new rug to the floor. You let friends come to visit, but only one at a time.

Wrapped in a blanket for comfort, you don’t want to hide, but you know you won’t make it, if you get knocked down one more time. That’s okay. Safety’s healing medicine to a hurt spirit. Build a fire. Warm your heart. Tend your bruises. Find space for breathing. Get some sleep and dream of stars. Let the angels keep watch outside.

Soon enough—I hope it’s soon—you’ll find your feet. You see you still have hands. Thoughts in your head will be ones of wisdom. Sunshine will call you to go outside, to pick one wildflower, to breathe the air. For one split second, you’ll take a peek up at the sky.

It will be so very bright, and light, and brilliant blue. You’ll know more than you ever knew before that the world is round.

You’ll know your feet, your hands, your head are all your own. You’ll feel your confidence in your bloodstream and start thinking that it might be fun to take a risk. You’ll look back through time and see so many things about you that were damn brilliant before that sad, old rug took a dive. You’ll be determined that you’ll have back every part of you, every bit you’d set aside.

That’s when the galaxy will breathe a silent sigh of relief, a whispering wind like angelsong. Joy will travel from star to star, from leaf to leaf. The universe has been waiting, wishing for you. You have been missed. The world needs you.

Genius is misunderstood and mistreated.

Each of us brings uniqueness, genius, to the world.

If you didn’t come back, we would always miss the genius that is you.

—me strauss Letting me be