But Can You Drop It on Your Foot?

I recently learned about a concept or rule common in journalism. You want to include things in your writing that you can drop on your foot. As readers, we relate to these concrete moments (though don't go dropping concrete on your foot, ok?).

I'm sitting here thinking about how this applies to life, too. When the wisps of old insecurities and fears swirl around in me like fog, I look to what is real, what I can drop on my foot. The truth is, most of my fears are difficult if not impossible to substantiate. They exist in a netherworld of things that have already happened and/or imagined what ifs.

If I am to make my imagination an ally and not a foe, one of the the best things I can do is enter the day focusing on things I can drop on my foot: A dog contentedly sleeping on her bed, how the light is coming up on the trees behind the house, a spouse drinking coffee, surrounded by stacks of books, notebooks, and notes for their day's work, the hold music of an airline as I try to make a change an upcoming flight.

Ground down, I remind myself. Feel the floor behind your feet, find a little patch of earth if you can, look at the sky, smell the seasons change, inhale deeply and then let it all go. I am alive. And in this moment, as a wise friend said to me so many years ago, I have everything I need.

This is faith. Faith you can drop on your foot.