Check(ed) Boxes
When you open a box, what are you looking for?
When you close a box, what is your goal?
The answer. . .
We spin boxes as a positive, but enclosed spaces stifle, guard, trap. My skills. My feelings. My behaviors.
And, all of yours, don’t fool yourself. It’s true of all boxes.
Check. Check them all.
Rooms. Buildings. Papers with check(ed) boxes to check.
Everything is put in a box. This is humanity. Our gray, spiraled brain matter so unknown and uncontrollable yearns for control. First, it builds the box.
Check.
Then the brain locates the right box to describe who we are and why we matter.
Check them off.
We build boxes with walls that match. Tall. No gaps. Nailed tight. Our protection. Our differences. But, all of us, shouldn’t fool ourselves. Walls are supported, but don't really support.
In boxes, we’re backed into a corner. At first the box appears too small. We become accustomed to its existence and soon welcome the safety in that corner. We protect how well we know its edges with pride and fear.
We are no longer in the box. We are the box. Straight and uniform. Closed. We name it expertise.
Boarded windows. Spaces closed.
Check. Check them all for locks.
Walls echo. Rooms ache.
Check. Check them off for hospitability.
When the box is perfect and so tight, there is a limited amount of air, of life, that runs out.
That's why we have coaches. To train us, shape us, build our team.
Our team? As long as the uniform fits and you stay in the box.
All sports use some type of box. A court. A diamond. A field.
Coach. Coach for behavior
Check(ed)
Coach. Coach for improvement.
Check(ed)
Coach. Coach for skills.
Check(ed)
Coach. Coach for growth.
Check(ed)
And scoreboards, of course, are boxes too. Ultimately, it’s those boxes that matter. The performance. They talk about it. They talk about you. Maybe you’re there, but it’s better if you’re not.
Push. Push them. Push them hard.
Drive. Drive them. Drive them hard.
Push. Drive.
Them.
Out.
“To your corners.”
“Fight.”
