An “orientational” metaphor.
When life turns upside down, we realize that we are alive. To live right-side up is to be normal. Normal is routine. Routine is fragile. Routine breaks. Life inverts. We see mortality. We deny it. We are alive.
Today, life is right-side up. The car is right-side up. Its passengers are right-side up. The driver will miss the traffic light above. A car will careen into the side. Time will slow down. Safety glass will rain, and the three upside-down people inside will watch their car skid. They will release their seatbelts, drop to the ceiling and crawl out the window. They will be alive.
Today, life is right-side up. The kayaker is right-side up. He will be right-side up when he pushes off the dock, and he will be right-side up when he takes his first exploratory strokes. He will overextend his arm, and the kayak will flip its passenger and his life into the water. Upside down, the passenger will stare up his drowning death and deny it the luxury of fear. He will pause – death has waited so long that it can wait more. He will orient himself, climb down, deeper, out of his seat, and dive to the surface. Floating there next to his upside down kayak, he will breathe life.
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