Magnificent Passives

Focus on movement, not

              balance,

says the teacher as I stand

on one foot trying

not

        to

                 try?             

How?

When survival is a chess game

and I am ten steps ahead, anticipating

every

possible

permutation.

My friends thought I had a superpower. They thought

I could read the insides of minds. They didn’t know

my earliest years were spent honing this skill.

A flick of an eyelid—I’m going to beat you if you continue whatever it is that you are doing.

The half-smile—I’m not happy with that B+ and you best come home with all A’s next time.

And pursed lips? The worst—that sport of another’s to say you suck.

So you learn, early on how

to listen. Except, I guess,

to yourself.  Or rather,

you listen to cues and clues.

To avoid pain that changes shape with the day as does

the bag of tricks I dig in.

I take the advice of the teacher

and let go. And start to feel

a flow. Why?

I ask the teacher after class. He says,

we call these magnificent passives.

We move more when we let go.

It’s all already there.

I smile and my teacher has no idea

that minutes later as I walk home

I feel my feet for the first time.