I’ve hit several in my life. Generally I’m stubborn enough to plow right on through. I might make a mess, leaving broken bricks all around me, but I get through that wall, by golly! Lately I’ve found that being stubborn is not always the best way to be – even dealing with brick walls.
Sometimes neatly dismantling works, but it is sort of time-consuming, and if you are stubborn, then you’re generally not so hot in the patience department. There is such a thing as scaling the wall, but doing that opens yourself up to falling, or even a kind of arrogance – feeling higher and mightier than anyone else, and certainly better than any old brick wall.
Tunneling under can also work. But tunneling requires specialized tools. You have to have a good shovel, and be able to stand a lot of dirt. The better you are at shoveling, the dirtier you will get. Sort of unsanitary – in many more ways than one.
There is the old reliable,” Brick wall? No sweat, I’ll go around it!” All well and good, but there are many walls that are not just too high to avoid a nose bleed, but are so wide that by the time you get around them, the reason you were trying to get on the other side of it is so far away, that you have to hike a far piece to get back to the place you started from.
So what to do? I suppose ignoring the wall is a possibility, but that wall can present you with such an undeniable challenge that it seems almost impossible to ignore it. I mean – it’s right there in front of your face, and if you were to ignore it, well, you might foolishly worry about what others would think, or even worse yet, you wouldn’t think very much of yourself, and maybe feel a coward for not trying.
So, you finally make up your mind. Let’s say you decide to plow on ahead – headache be damned! What happens when you get on the other side? Ever stop to think that the wall-builder is over there and might be all ready to build another sturdier wall?
I realize that a lot of the decision-making will depend on what sort of bricks make up the wall. Are they old and crumbling, new but with wet mortar, or strong enough to take all comers? If you are stubborn enough, the material won’t matter. If you’re shrewd enough, you will weigh all the choices and possibilities and make a calculated decision. If you are foolhardy – anything goes, and the devil take the hindmost. As I said, it can be very messy.
There is always the option of pretending that it isn’t there. “Abra-cadabra! There is no wall!” I’ve done that, and then wondered for days why I had such a terrible headache and didn’t seem to be getting anywhere! Maybe my pretending skills or magic incantations were not up to par. . .
It’s Hard to Love a Wall
© Paula Tohline Calhoun 2011
Once upon a time, I thought
I’d never met a wall
That I could not break down or scale
Or magically make fall.
But then I found there were some walls
That firmly filled their space
They would have been quite beautiful
If in some other place.
But some of the walls that challenged me
Were the ones that had a door
Boldly I would walk right through
To find that there were more –
Wall after wall stood across my way
They would not fall nor yield.
There was nothing I could do or say,
No wall-razing weapon to wield.
I felt like giving up on it,
Ceding that I was bested.
But then an idea came to me,
That I had never tested.
I chose at last to see the wall
In a wholly different light.
I allowed the wall to speak to me
Before my words took flight.
Then I spoke a word of peace,
And sometimes I would see
The roads themselves shrug off the walls
To make the pathways free.
So, my Gentle Readers, what do you think? Are brick walls worth the trouble? If so, then how do you usually handle them?
Oh! I forgot one other possibility. Perhaps through sheer force of will you can change the very nature of the wall with your mind – call it Jell-O, and walk right through. Since there is always room for Jell-O, maybe Jell-O will make room for you.
So, tell me! Have you ever hit a brick wall? If so, what did you do? I really want to know.
Until I hear from you, and for always, I will continue to wish you enough. . .