It usually seems like nothing.
Take this morning for instance. We walk to the end of our road, as we do every morning. We linger there, get our daily fix of the view, turn around and head back. At the lone pine tree on our right it’s time for our first set of squats. It’s where we always do them. But this morning, my geologist suggests (doesn’t demand) that we walk a little farther before completing that first set, in case a car turns onto our road. Having a little more distance from the highway feels wiser to him, and honoring his request would have been easy. It would have been nothing.
Instead, I make it something. I react. Plant my feet. Get irritated. Feel bad about getting irritated. Get irritated about getting irritated. Stand there. Walk a few steps. Plant my feet again. Get irritated all over again. Begrudgingly honor his request, as in “Fine.”. We walk a little farther, get in that first set of squats and keep going.
Why did I make much ado about nothing? Because its’s not nothing. It never is. It’s always something. And whatever that something is, it’s asking for my attention, because, actually, that something would be much happier being nothing. So would I, and so would the people I love. Because my nothings that I keep making into somethings spill over onto them, too.
In my case, the something that would rather be nothing is the weight I give to a male voice telling me what to do. Or, as in this case, simply suggesting what to do. Even after all these years of finding and using my own voice, of turning to scar tissue the wounds of the past, and of coming to trust the voice of this man that I love, my reaction to that something that would rather be nothing is often swift and strong. It’s something against which I need to defend myself. But is it?
Looking back at our morning walk, I can see that something for what it was. Another chance to let go of something from which I needed to protect myself then, but no longer need to now.
In other words, it’s only something if I keep making it something.
And when I don’t, it’s nothing.
