Also published on Curiosity Shots here
Humor me for a moment, and imagine life as one big game of limbo.
“How low can you go? How low can you go?”
The answer? Well, it probably depends.
I’m certain being exposed to at least one game of limbo during one’s childhood is a fairly universal experience. The intensity of each round would build up like water coming to boil. I can feel it now: music and playful camaraderie, just on the cusp of recess violence, youth fluttering in the air. Lower and lower, the need, for the oddly niche ability, to shrink oneself at the knees would grow ever more important. In my mind, this was likely the first taste I ever got at testing the limits to which I would go in order to “win.” I use quotation marks because I think the concept of winning is pretty relative. Who was I limboing against; the other kids, myself, or the bamboo stick?
Today, I wish I could remember the first time. I’m not sure where I even was, or how the game was even introduced. The rules now seem etched into my mind. Like everything else, I suppose there wasn’t one singular moment, but, in fact, moments over and over where knowledge became a part of who I am, or was at least. Even now, this knowledge continues to expand, as there are so many questions on my mind at present, none of which seemed pertinent then. Am I a better person today because I beat some kids at ducking under a pole? Was my self-concept that easily manipulated? Are our childhood games representative of the lives we are destined to lead?
I mean, it’s funny how the games we played as children mirror the lives we know today. A game of telephone takes on another level of absurdity when people actually believe misconstrued messages. Tag becomes less fun when it’s over the phone, and you wonder if it’s even worth going “you’re it!” next.
I shudder to think of all the time I spent wanting to grow older. Entranced and yearning for what seemed so far away, hours were spent fantasizing about being older, more sophisticated, wishing to be anywhere but on my naptime cot, in a room filled with other small humans, listening to Enya. Little did I know, given the inevitability of time and aging, that my efforts would have probably been better spent focusing somewhere else. I imagine in a parallel universe children finally see the value in nap time, and adults recognize how silly and strange our day-to-day lives really are.
These thoughts themselves come at a time of limbo. Ask anyone what their plan is for the next year, month, week, or even day, and their mind churns and churns to spit out something suitable. All you get is a blank stare and uncomfortable shuffling, because the answer is: no one knows.
When did limbo become something more than a game, and why is it that it’s manifestation in real life is so eerily similar, but far more devastating? In the same way we struggled to squeeze ourselves under a bar we had no control over, our world today seems to be testing our flexibility to lower and lower depths. How did the small simplicity of our younger selves grow larger than each of us? When did we sign up for feelings and thoughts larger than lives that we once knew?
With all these questions, my curiosity definitely took a dark turn upon realizing the definition and historical context attached to limbo are rather morbid. I must say, the limbo we know today is certainly more tame than Britannica’s definition: “the border place between heaven and hell where dwell those souls who, though not condemned to punishment, are deprived of the joy of eternal existence with God in heaven.” In other instances it’s even defined as a place designated for dead babies. On ships carrying enslaved peoples, limbo was allegedly present as well. In a dance of death and survival, the limbo pole held slaves in chains as their backs touched the ground. On a lighter note, limbo in Trinidad symbolized a celebration of life during someone’s funeral.
Limbo, a word with synonyms such as uncertain, suspended, and undetermined clearly holds many different interpretations, and it’s so strange how language allows for all of them. Our current limbo, a collective feeling of stillness and confusion, as we wait for something more, will most certainly be added to the list. Meanwhile, I type here and add my own interpretation; fresh and waiting for more and more iterations.
I must say it makes the stillness more bearable.
With all these variations, I can’t help but wonder what truths have been lost along the way. Which of our own truths today do we think will suffer the same fate? Perhaps someone knows the answers to all my questions while I can actually make use of them. I must do so before I grow too large for this mind and body, as I have continued to do for as long as I have known life.
Regardless of the use case, to be afflicted by a limbo state is to be stuck; there is no forward and no backward. In the heat of the moment, the game of limbo can be the only thing that matters in the world. Likewise, being stuck is all I have thought about for a year. Love it or hate it, limbo gives us a frame of reference; knowledge of the way life ebbs, flows, and, yes, remains absolutely still.
Limbo’s intensity, the spirit of competition, almost seems to disappear as soon as the music and bamboo stick are put away. Life goes on. Today, I wonder if the same sentiments will ring true for all of us.
With the solemn reflection of my brief limbo knowledge, I know that it is as much a game of flexibility as it is mentality. We can choose when to regroup, and try again next game. Beautifully, in this analogy limbo is a game we can strive to win, not purgatory.
Today, where are you focusing your energy in these trying times?
We get so used to sucking it in to fit under that damn pole, that perhaps the greatest humility we can give ourselves is knowing when it’s time to breathe. Do you even remember why you began playing in the first place? We won’t win every game, and we don’t have to, so long as we remain present.
“How low can you go?” is a question not a statement.