When I was a kid, my family frequently played board games. A favorite was Scrabble, and later on Upwords. For those games, my Mum kept the letter tiles in a black felt bag; all we needed to do was throw the tiles in, hold the top closed and shake it vigorously. When it came time for each of us to replenish our letters on the rack, we’d just dive in and grab what we needed without peeking.
Life is sort of like that; and has been like that of late.
I was setting my tiles out on the massive, traveling board of Life; connecting, re-thinking, reconnecting, making good or making bad words, with more or less points when the Universe picked up the board, folded it nearly in half and tipped all of my tiles into the bag. It happens, I suppose. The Universe looked around nonchalantly while giving it a good shake then plopped it back into my hand and left with a smile.
Nothing traumatic had happened, just a sense of crawling to a stop with dissatisfaction in the passenger seat. So, I took a step back with my bag o’ tiles in hand and busied myself with other, less personal things. The bag was always there though, clack-a-lack shaking in the background; a reminder that soon, sooner, soonest I’ll need to return and place my tiles in a more pleasing manner.
How unwriterly of me to step away from my imagination. I might be crucified by some diehards with their pointed fingers; “You must write every day!” I can hear the cry.
How soulless of me to step away from the cushion for so long that I’ve forgotten the last time I came face to face with my essence.
The platform that helped to shape me over the past while is going through a necessary crumble, and a change is due. Perhaps it’s a reset; the letters are present, after all. I’m about ready to reach into the void and arrange them just so on my board. Ready to return to the stomping ground of my soul and look upon it with fresh eyes, and create some new crisp, thing.
Slowly, slowly, play the Board Game of Life.