Janga

I’ve had a few moments of collapse in my life, where I have layered on idea after idea belonging to other people until I can no longer support the weight of them. I would liken it to a giant game of Janga, the kind you play on a bar patio with your friends at 1 am on the second day of summer.

To begin with, the structure is strong, I stacked it so all of the corners and edges would line up and the base would not be easily skewed. But then, the pulling begins. Vodka sodas are balanced in one hand while blocks are carelessly removed from the base. Sometimes the neighboring block is pushed sideways, leaving the entire structure teetering on one little square of wood.

Soon after that, the collapse happens, one vulnerable block gives way and the others are scattered about the floor and then restocked for round two. No big deal, the bar floor isn’t that sticky and it is a game after all.

I rebuild the stack with less care this time because I know the collapse is bound to happen again.

I have identified in life that sometimes people like to remove your blocks and when they are pulling them out, with game-like familiarity, they almost always knock the other ones crooked. I guess you have to be prepared for this, when it’s our structure we are responsible for nudging corners straight and keeping away hazardous acquaintances.

But for the people who are not responsible for picking up the arrant blocks and re-stacking them, the collapse is fun. They have no horse in this race. What’s the harm in knocking the corner block crooked?