“You throw me the idol, I throw you the whip.”
Something I do.
I slip through closing doors every chance I get. I see somebody twenty feet in front of me walk through a door, and then I very subtly accelerate so as to make that sudden shift sideways, avoiding the slow, swinging sheet of wood, metal, or glass as it returns to position zero. This is a thing I do. I can’t recall how long I’ve been doing this; it’s just a natural state of mind for me at this point, this idea of making it through increasingly smaller exits. On a similar note, I’m also somebody who will start running full-tilt from a half block away when the “Walk” sign begins flashing “Don’t Walk,” just to see if I can make it across before the interim warning goes solid.
It’s my non-threatening version of high-risk behavior. My personal Indiana Jones moments.
I’ve started to ask myself if, intrinsically or spiritually speaking, I’m trying so desperately to get away from the current somewhere that I’m willing to dive through these slim opportunities…or if I’m trying to escape something or someone, closing in behind me, trying to trap it on the other side by being the last possible thing that could fit through the door.
How do I know that where I end up is better than the place I escaped?
How do I know that the mysterious beast behind me won’t just open the door and keep coming?
What is it I’m running from, and what is it I’m running to?
Creative Control 