For both Maxes (Maxine and Maximus, and they don’t mind that I refer to them that way, in fact, they’ve found it much easier for people to refer to them as the Maxes or both Maxes. After all, they are sister and brother, orphaned at an early age by the untimely death of both parents. It’s sad really, mostly because death is almost never timely), commitment was never really the problem. They had always thought that their habit of jumping from interest to interest was because they didn’t really know how to commit. Maybe it was their parent’s death. Maybe it was the lack of love from never having any one person or thing to always depend on. It could stem from a thousand things and they knew all the areas where they were lacking…that was, until they met Guión (spelled G-U-I-O-N, with an accent over the O, the G is pronounced with a hard G as the G in give, then the sound of the letter E, “Gee,” and the rest sounds like the word own, like “your own private Idaho,” Gee-Own).
Guión preferred to be simply be called “G”. Strange, isn’t it? Come to think of it, I made a friend years ago who went by “G”, but that was because some of the friends in our group felt it was too much work to say his whole name “Giampiero”. I never understood it, because I love calling my friends by their actual names, unless they told me to call them something else; it’s never felt like work. It’s only ever felt like work when I’m dealing with someone who I don’t like dealing with.
OK, I won’t tell you, at least not right now, the circumstances under which the Maxes met G. Why? To be completely candid with you, I haven’t figured that out yet. The Maxes haven’t told me and up to this point in the story (after all, this is a story), I want you to trust the process. Things have a way of presenting themselves in due time, like a rainfall after a drought.
What I will tell you, and this is the whole point of why I came over here right now, is that G helped them to discover this on their own. G never pushed or prodded. The Maxes discovered that their habit of not finishing things was never a flaw; it was never even a defect. It was simply a sign, a sign that further action was needed…like when you’re walking and your shoe feels loose and then you look down and see it. Have you ever tried tying your shoe while continuing to walk?
Both Maxes discovered that it’s best to stop and tie up the lace so it’ll hold until they’re ready to untie it, whether it’s to change shoes, change clothes, or to simply relax and unwind.
Their inability to commit wasn’t the untied shoelace itself; it was represented in the process of continually having to stop time and time and time again to tie the lace. The repetition of that process was unnecessary, but they weren’t able to identify it on their own. Somehow, for some reason, the timing of meeting Guión and their readiness to learn to tie their laces in such a way so they
wouldn’t ever come undone until they decided to untie them, was right. All this time, they were missing clarity. Lack of clarity was that untied shoelace and lack of commitment was the process of interruption that always made them late.
And there’s one more thing: that whole cycle of constant interruption prevented them from enjoying the experience of walking, running, skipping, hopping, or even simply standing still. Once they learned to properly tie their shoes, they never had to worry about their shoelaces coming untied. They were free to focus on their destinations, their paths, the sunrises and sunsets. They were free to run through the rain and from the lightning.
And, to add to their sense of satisfaction and deepening consciousness, the opportunity to help others who continue to trip over their own laces is a constant source of joy and empowerment. Clarity continues to come.
