Rob Knight

Something bigger than me

May 07, 2011

Let’s say I gathered every moment when I felt fear, uncertainty or doubt and stacked them on top of each other; and then I took each moment when something breath-taking, beautiful, magical, or unexpected happened and carefully stacked each one on top of the previous stack.

And then, say, I took every post-it note, napkin, PG&E bill, bank statement, cereal box, candy wrapper or piece of binder paper that I’ve ever written my thoughts on and stacked them on top of the previous stack.

After that, what if I took every single moment when I felt cared for and loved by all of the amazing people I have in my life and stacked them on top of each other, on top of the previous stack.

And then, what if I took all of the roads I’ve ever been lost on, sunsets I’ve ever seen, sunrises I’ve ever been awake for, ocean waves I’ve ever paddled into, tall trees I’ve ever silently stood beside, and full moons I’ve ever surfed under and stacked them all on top of the previous stack.

Now, suppose I took all of the hopes, dreams, blank canvases, open roads, cups of tea, bowls of veggies, climbable tree branches, late night conversations, epic surf sessions, family gatherings, multi-mile hikes, lost-in-the-middle-of-who-knows-where road trips, ripe mangoes, funny t-shirts, naps, breathless moments and ear-to-ear smiles that I have yet to experience; and stacked them on top of the previous stack.

What would I have?

I’d have something much, much bigger than me. I’d have the sum of many moments and not just the emotion of any single moment. I’d have a collection of magical moments that by shear weight alone smooshed the fear, uncertainty and doubt into a pancake at the bottom. Smoosh smoosh. Smoosh.

If I were to stare at this stack too closely, I might get lost in one piece of it and lose sight of what’s at the top; the stacked moments yet to come. They’re coming and they’re not concerned about the ones below them. Whatever they hold, I should look forward to them and not spend too much time dwelling on the moments stacked below. Like rings in a tree, they hold you up, but remain unchanged once they’ve happened.

Something bigger than me. Yeah. Much bigger.

This was all in a dream I had, so it might not make sense.