The Choice

Pulling the Cord

Jenny was sitting in the car with Sassy.

The groceries were done. Earlier, Jenny had heard deeply upsetting news on the radio, and her mind had been working on it ever since.

At first, that thinking had a job.

What do I think about this?

What am I feeling?

Is there anything I can do?

But somewhere along the way, the questions stopped taking Jenny anywhere new.

Same thoughts.

Another lap.

Jenny and Sassy normally stopped at the pet store after picking up the groceries. They could walk around, meet people, practice tricks, and have some fun together.

That day?

Jenny did not feel like going in.

She sat in the car with the news still spinning through her head. Going inside was the last thing she felt like doing.

But Jenny noticed something.

Thinking harder was not giving her anything new.

So Jenny tried something

She went into the pet store with Sassy.

Not because pet stores are magical emotional-regulation facilities.

Although Sassy might have notes. 😂

Jenny walked.

She interacted with people.

She worked with Sassy.

They practiced things.

There were other sights, sounds, people, and moments in the world besides the thoughts Jenny had been circling in the car.

And the news?

Still true.

The Rock had not disappeared.

Jenny had not figured out exactly what she thought or what she was supposed to do about it.

But she had stopped requiring herself to figure it out while she was spinning.

That was the part Jenny would eventually recognize as important.

The pet store was not the Parachute. Going inside was one experiment Jenny tried after she pulled the cord.

Then what was the cord?

For Jenny, in that moment, it was the choice to interrupt the requirement:

I have to keep thinking about this until I understand it.

She could stop pushing for an answer she did not have.

She could create some different space.

Then she could notice what happened.

Sometimes Jenny has noticed the same strange thing at work. She can try to solve something and try to solve it and try to solve it until she is getting absolutely nowhere.

Then she steps away.

And later—in the shower, after sleeping, while doing something completely unrelated, or apparently at 2:00 in the morning because brains have no respect for office hours—something new appears.

Jenny's highly technical explanation is:

Something magic happens.

She does not need to know exactly why the magic happens to notice that sometimes more effort stops helping and space changes what becomes available.

Later that day, Jenny released the Heart Stone

Afterward, Jenny wrote about what had happened.

She did not need to hand the whole private Rock to the world.

She could share the useful piece:

I noticed I was circling.

I stopped requiring myself to solve it.

I tried creating different space.

Something shifted.

She wrote because maybe that discovery could help someone else someday.

Someday turned out to be around midnight.

Then a friend started falling

A friend texted Jenny while she was spiraling.

Jenny had lived something only hours earlier that suddenly gave her a way to sit beside her friend.

But Jenny did not need to talk at her.

She did not say:

Here is the correct thing to do when you are spiraling.

She could explain what had happened to her earlier, what she had noticed, why she had tried something different, and that it had helped her.

Then they could wonder about possibilities that fit the friend's actual moment.

It was around midnight. “Go take a lovely walk” was not automatically a sensible suggestion. 😂

Maybe music.

Maybe a movie.

Maybe listening to a book.

Maybe something else that gave her mind somewhere different to be for a while.

Jenny could offer possibilities.

Her friend had to discover what she could actually receive and what—if anything—helped.

Jenny could share the cord she had discovered. She could not pull her friend's cord for her.

That changed what “helping” could mean

Jenny did not need her friend to copy Jenny's experiment.

She needed her friend to have enough room to hear a possibility and make a choice of her own.

That is different from talking at someone until they understand what Jenny understands.

Jenny's story could lend a little belief:

Maybe I do not have to solve this from inside the spin.

Then the friend's process still belonged to the friend.

Pulling the cord can be very small

It does not have to mean you know what will regulate you.

It does not have to mean you have the perfect words.

It does not mean the Rock is solved.

Sometimes it is simply:

I am not getting anything new from solving this while I am falling. I can stop requiring an answer right now.

Then you experiment.

You notice.

You keep what helps.

You change what almost helps.

You toss what does not.

You discover something Jenny never needed.

And sometimes the next discovery is much smaller still:

I know I need to pause.

I just don't have many words yet.