When you hit black ice, even in relationships, don’t slam on the breaks, but be patient, and steer yourself into the skid thus facing it.
Escalation: To increase in attitude, magnitude, etc.
A lot of life escalates: Arguments, car wrecks, Love, love-making, sex, etc. Not all escalation is bad however.
Last night Rodrigo and I escalated. We went further than we’d ever gone before. We hit that black ice and steered towards each other, feeling a definite sense of panic, but also a sense of relief to simply let go, and careen, silently, except for moans, towards an inevitable end. Not a crash, but more of an intersection. Last night we escalated.
When you’re driving down the familiar back country road of your bedroom, the only light coming through the tree-like slats of your window, a midnight moon silvered by trees, you know the road like the back of your hand, and then it happens, the skid, the loss of control, the giving up to happenstance, the thoughts of demolition, of crashing, flailing into an abutment, or rail, or, like Rodrigo and I, into each other.
But the crash into Rodrigo isn’t a single crash. No, it’s a repetitive crash. Like cymbals in a marching band or drums in a drum line. It’s a repetitive crash like an automatic weapon, which, when it ends, makes you sweat, exhausted, and, frankly, happy to be alive.
An escalation doesn’t always have to be negative. An escalating skid on black ice covering familiar roads will end in a collision. Hopefully, just like Rodrigo and I.