Chutes and Ladders

“Our future is an untouched canvas. We paint monsters on it, because they evoke far less fear in us than does the unknown.”

“I can’t do this!” I exclaim. “The journey is too far, the dangers too perilous! What if I fall? What if I am too slow? What if … what if I never make it?!?!”

My friend places his hand on my shoulder. “I believe in you,” he tries to comfort me, but I am unable to take his words to heart. The odds are stacked against me. I could have an army at my side, and my fate would still be in my own hands. I am alone, and it is up to me.

“Do it for Andrea,” my friend encourages me, gesturing to his young sister sitting across from us.

Andrea, derived from the Greek ἀνδρεία – courage, fortitude, bravery, manliness ... that was everything I lacked. I was a coward, overwhelmed by that which might happen. Great warriors have ἀνδρεία (andreia). They fight real enemies while I stall at the thought of potential ones.

I try to see through the tears starting to form in my eyes. My friend’s sister has already taken action. She is only five years old, yet I can find no indecision in her eyes. I am the one who is delaying. It is my hesitation that is forcing both of them to wait.

“Do it for me,” she pleads.

She is right. They are both right.

I summon my courage and prepare to cast the die of fate. Here we go.

I freeze.

“Hey buddy,” my friend begins again, searching for the right words. His voice is soft, but beneath his compassion, I hear impatience beginning to rise. “Buddy,” he repeats. “It’s not that big of a deal. We’ve been waiting for you to take your turn for about two minutes now. Andrea has to leave soon to visit a friend, so could you please roll the dice and make your move so we can get on with our game? I mean, ‘Chutes and Ladders’ is a kids' game; there really isn’t much to it.”

“Not much to it?” I scoff, my eyes now transfixed on the colorful board before me. “Do you see this? I have to move across one hundred individual spaces faster than my opponent. Ladders dot my path, promising to help me ascend quickly, but I also see just as many chutes hoping for my downfall. I’ve noticed that the final two rows at the top seem to be particularly difficult to navigate. Three chutes await me there. How will I ever get past them?

And I haven't even mentioned the biggest challenge yet. This die that I must roll has six sides. There are one hundred fields, and the highest number I can roll is six! There is no way I will ever reach the finish line!"

My friend leans in close and whispers, “Nothing can guarantee victory, but failure to act will almost certainly lead to defeat. You do not have to traverse one hundred fields now; you do not have to navigate past the three chutes at the top, or any chutes at all; you do not have to try to climb ladders, or ponder how to move your game piece. You do not even have to worry about which number you will roll. You must only do what is next required of you in this moment. You must only roll the die.

The time to move your figurine will come. But that time is not now.

The time to climb ladders and avoid chutes will come. But that time is not now.

You cannot allow yourself to carry the burden of those actions at this time; you need only to focus on rolling the die.”

'Too Heavy' - we need not carry the burden of our future, only the weight of the present moment.