keyless entry
Think of it as a potted plant. It's all nice and comfortable in its little pot. Probably a pretty, terra-cotta colored, sturdy, plastic pot someone bought at Lowe's. And there the plant is... safe, secure, at home.That's where the "Transition Cycle" begins. It's a fancy model for explaining why the heck we go a bit berserk when we pick up our lives and move. So phase one is "involvement"... a way of saying "at home". You're the plant in the pot and you've been there for a while and you feel like you fit and you're familiar with your surroundings and your roots are well... rooted.
But then we decide to stick our grimy little hands into the pretty pot and yank the plant up out of its terra-cotta colored comfort. The technical title of this stage is "transition". But those of us in the business like to call it "chaos".
Nowhere to plant yourself. Hanging in the air. Roots are dangling.
And the other day I had a good indicator of what phase of "Transition Cycle" I'm in, because it occurred to me that I have no keys: no house keys, no car keys, no sede keys, not even a key for my bike lock. No keys. Whatsoever. Which means I have no house, no car, no sede, no bike. (Well, the last one isn't true. I have my shiny fuchsia bike from Junior High that is as good as new... but just no lock.)
It's funny how a simple little thing like a key can make you feel like you belong. Not that I'm complaining... because I'll have keys soon enough. But, for a month-long moment, I'm keyless. And so, my friends, I suppose that means the roots are dangling.
posted by Courtney @ 3:37 AM
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