Hormones, voluntary, and involuntary movements all stem from the brain. With this in mind <see what I did there?> the question may just be, PSSSHHH WHAT CAN’T I DO?!?!?!

You say to yourself

I want to dance

Then, you say

I can dance

And then, the waves flow in the direction

To get you where you will be going.

The MOMENT you say, “I can do that.”

You can, it happens, you’ve already BEGUN the doing it.

The flows goes in your favor, just keep the mindset of YOU CAN, DOING IT.

It will be.

Plans may alter, and that’s just fine.

Say do, go do, be doing, soon (sooner than you may think) you’re there. Done.

All from when you said,

I can dance.

And look at you…

DANCING!

I usually drive the same way to work/ school when I make my 40 minute trek southbound. I take the slower roads alongside the farming groves of sugar cane and bell peppers instead of the hustling grind of the turnpike- or worse- the interstate! My drive is smooth. I’ll make a pit stop at Target or the local Cuban coffee cafe some days for some of their finest cafe elixirs. I see the same landmarks and appreciate the ease of drivers making way to their Meccas. During the final stretch of my destination, I hang a left and drive a straightaway about 2-3 miles long. This road traverses over the busiest and most lethal paved road: I-95.

Over the past two months the road has succumbed to city ordinances necessitating it’s widening, or rearrangement, or editing and remolding of some kind… the road’s got major construction! This path is right over Interstate-95 and there’s a small airport just east of where the bridge meets the main stretch of road. Cars meet planes meet people. What a conglomeration of the most deadly things in the urban world.

This road is still operational, and cars are flying any at 40-45 miles per hour with only a yard separating the oncoming traffic and the sliver of construction zone. How in the world do you extend an overpass right above THE I-95 in one of the most congested areas in the east side of the United States?!

 I get to look at these hard-hatted workers as I do my daily drive-bys. These employees are young men, some older, but mostly young, black men. They’re living on this unstable brink while they create their own foundation. These young guys are constructing their own platform for stability. They’re extending the road so they can have a place to step while they cooperate to create a brand new road on which our cars can happily traverse, all with a terrible doom right underneath them and right next to them! They work in this marginal “warfare” zone weekly. All for the paycheck.

The pay must be worth it all. They may have others to support so that they too can have a stable platform to go about their days. This construction of a road is not only for me and the troupe of commuters going over this bridge, this road is for the workers’ stabilities and solaces of surviving in this developed country.

But, is it just for pay? I wonder what they think, I wonder if they notice my car coming in around the same time each day. I wonder if they’re thrill-seekers and this job is just allowing them to live in their adrenaline-rushing dream of dreams. I wonder if they have families. I wonder if they’re having fun. I wonder if they’re scared. I wonder if they begrudgingly took this gig. I wonder if they think about the what ifs of falling. I wonder why they chose to do this job. I wonder if the pay is extra good. I wonder if they can take a look down below and watch cars just missing collisions. I wonder if they ever think of pulling a “The Good Son” Macaulay Culkin move and creating horrendous havoc 75 feet below them. I hope not, but I wonder what character traits one must have to take this job.

In a sense, these men are soldiers. Soldiers of the city. They’re doing a job not many would want. They work in the sun, mind you, closer to the sun because of their altitude. They traipse on man-made beams and pirate-like planks of wood above the bustling city. This labor intensive work is not for everyone. It is quintessentially blue collar. And the rugosity of this heavy-handed work is only heightened by the tightrope environment of which these men must navigate. These men, naturally, are 20-somethings, with a foreman in his 40s. Young gents, I must say, that are apt for this perilous work.

They probably see so many car accidents just avoided. They can see the extension of the city, perhaps into the next city. They have the bird’s-eye-view of the daily hustle and bustle of this South Florida city. What perspective this gives a person is unimaginable unless one is graced with this vision. These guys have it.

I saw a couple of them laughing one day. Maybe they are enjoying the work! Or maybe it’s a coping mechanism. Whatever the reason, it’s enchanting to see road work and hard work that would be tough on stable ground, being done so fluidly in the sky. The road is soon to be completed and a magnificent clean cement-gravel road will soon guide my path to my destination. This job will end, and the next one will begin. These men will move on to other gigs, whether up high or down low. There is, after all, a paycheck at the end.