The Jig Is Not Up Yet

I sat down in my office to write this morning with nothing to write about. When the weather goes dismal, I find my level of inspiration sinks, like Auden's mercury "in the mouth of the dying day." To a degree, our feelings mirror our environment, and when the world outside is muted, my colors tend to go soft and quiet. My focus blurs. There are, however, treasures to be found in this dimly lit and often mysterious space, where I can't help but embrace the pervading semidarkness, the heaviness of the clouds' gray gloom counterweighing my usually buoyant enthusiasm, the rain and chill forcing me to find warmth within.

Despite that fact that my phonograph was firing on only one speaker, I put on a favorite jazz record by Errol Garner: "Ready Take One." The dull sound of his bright music, missing what seemed like its better half, was depressing, and I began searching for solutions to the speaker problem. One image appeared to require deconstruction of the turntable. A YouTube video was immediately too complicated. I was about to move on to replacement parts, when I decided to give the wires, which of course I had fiddled with numerous times before, one more jiggle. Boom! Splendid stereo sound as both speakers resumed their magical, musical dance.

Just a jiggle—that was all it took. And faith that this jiggle would do the trick when the previous ones hadn't. As the swell of bluesy jazz began to lift my spirits, I wondered if the word jiggle might offer any insight. And guess what? Jiggle derives from jig (with possible influence by jog), which means both fiddle, as in the instrument, and a "lively, irregular dance." I can't say the underlying musical connection surprised me (since that's how divine wordplay works), but it did fill me with delight. No, I didn't dance a jig, but I sure felt like it. Especially enjoyable was the word irregular, suggesting that a jig, and therefore a jiggle, doesn't fit a pattern but instead incorporates random, unscripted movement, the freedom to express oneself in the moment, the inspiration of improvisation, the bliss of letting the music flow through and take you where it wants to go.

Sometimes life needs a jiggle, a little fiddling to restore its fullness, a second (or third, fourth, or fifth) try to set things into a happier alignment even after previous attempts have failed. In truth, those previous jiggles weren't failures. They are all part of the same jiggle—each wiggle and waggle moving the wires a jot—or a lot—closer to the perfection of connection. It's an amazing feeling to hear from both ears again, to stop straining for sounds you know intuitively are supposed to be there. To know that what you are receiving is no longer diminished but amplified, thanks to some persistent jiggling.

So get busy. Jiggle away. See what you can fix. Because something in the world always needs fixing.