Slump

Slump.

I’m interested in the state of slumping. I’m not in one at the minute, but the potential is there. The drop, the sag, its always just around the corner. On the other hand slumping can be positive. It’s only a down swing after all, and a downswing is prone to an up swing, or so physics tells me. One needs the other, which needs the other, and so it goes.

A slump is by definition short term, which is cause for celebration.
Me? I like to think of it as a problem of traction, a speed equation. When you’re riding smooth speed just happens, the world moves past as you move forward, like steps on the pavement. That is until a shift takes place. Either in the landscape, or in the climate, or in you for that matter. A shift which marks the on set of a slump. And just like that it’s on you, you’re in a sinkhole.

It's slow going stuck in a sinkhole, the drag slows your speed, you begin to note the pace. Tempo, velocity, these things matter now.

Slump.

The word sounds like it feels. Sagging after a stroke, concrete grey, weight on the chest.

But a slump is also a dip. It has form and shape to go with the feeling. At the bottom sits a level flanked by two gradients, both up, both down, dependent on perspective. Thanks to gravity no matter which way you enter a slump your first move is always down, helpful considering the extra momentum. What’s left is up, a plane where traction is not only smart its a necessity. Yes, to go up, you need to find your feet, to watch them hard and make small decisions. Either you start with the left or you start with the right. Your decisions from there follow one another sensibly, for a while at least. Left, followed by right, followed by left.

It’s the only way.

Slump.


Beth