There are few things more subtly stirring; more hopeful; less pressurising than a squeak of possibility. I say this with the full-bodied understanding that, generally, it is only our anxiety that is stirred, that hope is dangerous because it is the sunny twin of disappointment, and that the pressure is…how to put it? RELENTLESS.
But, even in September, with all the build-up of the new term, new season and new demands acutely felt, the fizz of some distant opportunity is a pleasant one. Warming. Sexy.
To be a contender for this position, the prospect – be it professional, social, geographic or romantic – must be just out of sight. An idea rather than a project. A twinkle in your mind’s eye rather than anything that needs dealing with. It should be vaguely secret for that delicious sense of shiftiness and also to prevent anyone from asking you ‘How it’s going?’ which is the worst question in the world, whatever it pertains to.
There is a definite daydream flavour to this little, extra-curricular fizz. It possesses a fantasy element that allows your mind to roam free; to explore without those boring but highly effective personal demons getting in the way. It is a plaything for the soul. A ‘What if everything goes my way?’ It is the hint of change enlivened only with potential rather than weighed down with stress. It removes the ‘What if I fail?’ and allows only for ‘What if I fly?’ And maybe – just maybe – it could be the thing that keeps us fresh. The move, the sex, the career change, the party… And if it starts to crystallise? BOOM!
