Listening to the Wrinkles in my Socks

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In the last few days it has gotten cold enough that I need to wear socks all the time. Normally in the warm weather I only wear socks when I work out and those white workout ones are really extra good at staying up all by themselves. But come the darkening days of November I really have to wear darker and dressier socks than my athletic wear.

 

I don’t know why my winter socks are not as stay-put as my sneaker ones. Over the years I have bought dozens of different brands and styles of socks looking for the right pair that will not slip down inside my shoe while I walk. Tall shocks, or short, cotton or Lycra or any combination in between they all seem inferior. I have not succumbed to old-fashioned men’s-sock garters, but don’t put it past me.

 

The wrinkled sock that I feel in my shoe is really a metaphor for what is going on in my day-to-day life. Sometimes I am just going on along swimmingly, on plan, getting everything done just in time, not letting anyone down, check, check, checking things off my list, some items mundane some substantial. Those times are like wearing my best white athletic socks. Nothing is impeding my progress. Nothing is annoying me. Nothing is taking my eye off the proverbial ball.

 

Then there are the days when my sock keeps slipping down. I have to constantly stop what I am doing and pull it up. I try and ignore the wrinkle that is under my heel, but I walk a little wonkier, I feel a little more pain, I lose concentration on the task at hand, I am less effective, a little shorter with others and not as productive.

 

No matter how hard I try to find just the right sock there are going to be days when I am off my game, or the rules of the game have changed and no one let me know, or I am needed in two games at once, or three. And then there are the days that the wrinkle is good. It makes me slow down and reassess where I am going, the speed at which I am getting there and how that is affecting the world around me.

 

I don’t know whose hand is guiding mine when I reach in my sock drawer and pull out the pair for the day. Somehow I think I need to take a moment a listen to what my socks are telling me. Stop, look around, why did this wrinkle happen here and now? Not all wrinkles are accidents.



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