I.14 — The Cost

Be honest about what the grip takes, because the honesty is what makes opening it possible. This is the second mark of things: grasping at what changes chafes, and the chafing has a price.

It takes attention. A fist has to be kept shut, and the keeping is done with the same attention that could be on the actual day. The person braced against a bad outcome is not in the room. Some part of them is at the outcome, standing guard.

It takes breadth. A closed hand feels one thing: its own tightness. Whatever it holds cannot be felt, and whatever else is there cannot be received. The world narrows to the width of the grip.

It takes warmth. It is difficult to be kind while clenched. The kindness is there, but the hand it would use is busy.

Count the cost of one grip for one day. Pick something you are holding hard — an outcome, a grievance — and notice, every hour, how much of you is over there, keeping it shut. Not to shame yourself. Only to see the bill, plainly, the way you would read any bill before deciding whether to keep paying it.