The Floor Is Not Lava

When we were kids there was a game. Floor is lava. Tag with a twist: you can’t touch the floor. It was so much fun. If you can’t step on the floor you have to jump from the couch to the armchair to the dresser to dad’s chair to the table to the squeaky chair to the bench and back. If you hit the floor you burn, baby, burn.

As we grow up you might think we play fewer games. It’s as far from the truth as the kitchen table is from the couch. We play all the time. Especially “floor is lava.”

I don’t do carbs! I do agentic development! I could never do such a thing! I’m a winner!

Floor is lava.

It’s not your fault you’re playing. Because admit it — everyone is out to get you. We’re in a perpetual game of tag. Everyone thinks you’re a fat, weak, boring loser and is looking for the proof. They barely have time to sleep. They’re always watching. They’re waiting for the moment you slip and hit the floor and — PSSSHHT — your whole narrative evaporates and you get eaten alive. People never change.

The truth is people do change. Here’s what changes: as kids we played together. As grownups we play alone. No one has time to watch you hit the floor. Everyone is busy playing their own version of floor is lava. Every fat, weak, boring loser. Including me. Including you.

Let’s talk about actual floors for a second.

When I think of floors I think of construction as a trade. How long has it been around? Long enough to exist before the bright idea that one person’s ceiling could be another person’s floor. The floor has a purpose. It carries the entire existence of you and yours. All your stuff. All your games. All your slips. All your ambition. All your meshugas.

The floor is not lava. Relax.