We don't mean to walk on people, but we all do it. Sometimes we stomp people like bugs. Sometimes our personalities are so large - and we are so focused on our strides - that we trample all over people and don't even know it. Then there are the times that we just get lost in the dark and tromp right across the people who mean the most to us. Our intentions aren't always bad, but it happens.
It also happens TO us. When the shoe is on the other back, it doesn't feel so hot, and no one likes a footprint on their back. In fact, we take offense to being stepped on at work, by our family members, and by our significant others. Nothing will evoke an intense fight or flight response more than being stepped on by the people closest to us.
A friend from many years ago once told me, "If you lay down on the ground, you're going to get stepped on." It's true. We have to stand up for ourselves. Nothing good can come of allowing others to walk all over us.
Or... can it? Is there a way to be stepped on and not feel resentment? Yes... I believe there is.
I talked earlier about intentions. Many times "walking all over people" is not intentional. These "heavy steppers" are just trying to get someplace. They are often distracted or their attention is focused elsewhere.
What if we learned how to be stepped on appropriately? What if... we lifted others by boosting them up on our shoulders so they can see a broader horizon. What if we placed ourselves strategically and locked our hands together and caught their foot to help them over the wall?
When all of those people are stepping on us to get up the ladder, maybe it is because our job is to BE the ladder? Maybe by raising them higher, we become their most valuable tool. Maybe... it takes great wisdom and experience to know the difference between being stepped on and raising others higher than they could go on their own.
Would we still consider ourselves "stepped on?" Or... have we actually become stronger than those who do not tread lightly?
It seems to me that the stairs will still be there long after the climber has come and gone.