Balance

April 28, 2014

Greetings from the vestibular,

Four feet, eight and half inches apart.  Twin ribbons of steel tethered by beams of wood, just far enough apart to discourage trying to leap from one to the next. 

Among the places I explored during the first decade of my life, there was something particularly fascinating about train tracks.  Some of it was where the tracks wandered; lonely stretches of woods, concrete overpasses, tunnels, bridges with interesting history.  Some of it was the trains that passed by. The inner hobo in me tempted by the possibility of hooking a ride in an empty boxcar.

Summer morning, pushing through the damp weeds, crunching across the rock apron that split the right-of-way, and then stepping between the tracks.  Walking awkwardly on the ties for a bit, and then, after a glance back to make sure there were no trains visible, placing a foot on the rail. Then the other foot.  Then wobbling a bit, and finding the balance.

There was something almost hypnotic in the movement.  I could walk for a mile, arms out, teetering on the rail, tongue set firmly in the corner of my mouth.  One foot in front of the other, not always a graceful form, but a functional one.  Suspended a few inches from the earth by the steel, held in place by my own balance.

Balancing.  I tried walking along the metal handrails going down to the football field, or the top piece of the chain link fence that bordered the school.  Glided along the ridgeline of the houses in my neighborhood in late night adventures.  I like the sensation of focusing on balance; harnessing the senses, concentrating the body’s resources, to keep from tipping over.

Balance in the human body is a remarkable thing.  Just the act of walking is a product of balance.  The posture, the coordination, the combined effort of muscles and tendons, big toes, the eyes and the inner ear, cooperating to keep us upright.  It’s a miraculous confluence of effort, which seems automatic, unconscious, and the result is remarkable.

And like a lot of miracles, it’s easy to take for granted.  Ask anyone who has had vertigo. 

Most of us are not challenged to walk a tight rope, or balance along a railroad track on a regular basis.  Our balancing is more routine; standing, walking, climbing stairs.  It is easy to forget that walking across a room carrying a tray or setting off on a ten mile run is a result of a complex synchronization of a myriad of mechanisms and systems and tissue and bone that allows us to be upright.

Which leads me to another kind of balance.

In each of our lives there is a blend of activities that make up the mosaic of our days.  Responsibilities, challenges, difficulties, the ‘must do’ aspects of our lives.  There are chores and taxes and distractions and setbacks.  We all have chunks of time that get absorbed by the tedious, the unpleasant, the frustrating and the mundane.

And that is balanced by the fun, silly pastimes, pleasurable activities, or idle moments of rest.  There are the hours we spend that are inspired by passion. Some parts of our day we give to others because it brings us joy.  We find time to do what we love, or what enriches our life. 

The same with people.  Some are treasures; close friends, loved ones, cherished family.  People who smile at you, and those people who make you smile just thinking about seeing them again.  And of course there are people who have a negative impact, who leave you gritting your teeth or shaking your head, thankful that you have others in your life to give it balance.

It’s this balance that makes it possible to endure the ‘slings and arrows of outrageous fortune’.  Knowing that your day will have its moments of challenge, and also relying on the joys to lift you up, to maintain your equilibrium.

But the balance cannot be taken for granted.  Like walking along a single train track, it requires attention, focus.  When you lose balance the results are not always dramatic or catastrophic, it can be very subtle and that can be worse.  Losing your balance can be insidious.  The positive in your day can slowly be absorbed, or overshadowed.  The pleasures can be eaten up by the struggles.  Until one day it dawns on you that you are straining to stand upright because the internal scale has toppled to one side.

And so it takes commitment to keep the balance.  To purposely find the parts of your day that will give you the strength, the bearing, to keep from falling over.  It may be laughter or prayer or a call from a friend. It may be a long run or a hot cup of good coffee.  It may be reading or playing with children.  But whatever lifts you up, it is important to find it, use it, protect it. 

It’s Monday.  There are already a host of things waiting to pull you off your tightrope.  Begin today by arming yourself with what you love.  Take that into your world to keep you standing tall, head up, centered on what brings you to your best.  And when you see someone else tipping over, give them something to lean on.

Hope this finds you funambulating,

David

Copyright © 2014 David Smith