The key shift is from “What is the deepest thing underneath this?” to “What is operative now—and what is the urge to keep digging hoping to obtain?” Very often, the supposed search into the past is secretly another attempt to secure a future in which nothing difficult ever turns up again.
Story: NO BOTTOM REQUIRED
Verse 1
A message hit the inbox:
Could you change this by tonight?
The stomach tightened quickly,
then the mind began to write:
I’ve done it wrong.
They’ll judge me.
Why does judgment frighten me?
Down through every old reaction
to a childhood memory.
Then:
What made childhood matter?
What conditioned Mum and Dad?
Another door, another hallway,
another cause behind what had—
Chorus
Stories all the way down,
another story underground,
another reason for the reason,
another root that can be found.
But maybe seeing this one moving
is enough for here and now.
No final truth beneath the floorboards.
No bottom required.
Verse 2
I thought the root was hiding
where the oldest wound began,
and if I dug beneath the feeling
I’d uncover who I am.
But every cause had causes,
every answer opened two:
family, fear and history,
the things they travelled through.
A thousand roads behind one moment,
none beginning here with me.
Conditions meeting conditions—
then this thought
appeared to be.
Chorus
Stories all the way down,
another story underground,
another reason for the reason,
another root that can be found.
But maybe seeing this one moving
is enough for here and now.
No final truth beneath the floorboards.
No bottom required.
Bridge
Sometimes dig.
Sometimes don’t.
Sometimes understanding helps.
Sometimes the search for understanding
is another way to fix the self.
Ask:
What am I hoping
the final answer gives?
Maybe there was never any need
to know exactly why
before this moment lives.
Verse 3
At four a.m. came worry
with no story on its face.
Then thought began auditioning
for something it could place:
Work?
Money?
Health?
Tomorrow?
Something someone said?
The body had the weather first;
thought searched for clouds ahead.
I never found the reason.
Morning came.
The feeling passed.
No mystery was solved that night.
No final answer asked.
Final Chorus
Stories all the way down,
and stories spreading all around,
conditions without centre,
no first domino yet found.
If something useful shows itself,
lovely—look and let it sound.
But freedom doesn’t wait below
some final layer underground.
Stories all the way down—
and here is where they’re found.
A thought.
A feeling.
A little urge to chase.
Maybe seeing what is happening
is already enough
in this place.
Outro
One rabbit hole.
Then another.
The mind says:
Deeper.
Further.
More.
Then the chase itself is noticed.
Ahhh.
No need to find the floor.
