Walking a Tightrope: Tuesday's Reflection

Driving home along the River Road overlooking the Mississippi River, I noticed an unusual number of people gathered, many taking pictures with their phones. Several cars were parked in an area where that usually was not the case.

What was going on? I slowed down and saw a most unusual sight: A bare chested man was walking a tightrope across a deep gully between the road and the riverbank. I parked my car and joined the spectators (at a safe distance, of course). 

Slowly, precariously step by step, using his arms to keep himself balanced, he moved forward towards his destination, the other side of the gully. All of us who had gathered seemed to be holding our collective breath, not making a sound, not wanting to distract him from his endeavor.

At one point he lost his balance--something we all feared--but he was harnassed to the wire and did not drop to the ground beneath him. He was safe, except that he needed to swing himself back onto the wire and resume a standing position in order to walk to the other side. No small task. 

The crowd cheered when he made it to those waiting for him at the other side. 

I am not a risk-taker like that young man. Nothing drives me to do feats of physical daring, but in some way I identified with him. Maybe you do, too.

We are each walking a tightrope right now. We each pray we can get to the other side of this crisis without falling into the thickets of the woods below us. We each have moments of losing our balance and know how hard it can be to regain our equilibrium. We each know the challenge of being patient, taking one step at a time. We are each learning about our own limitations, but, perhaps, also our own strengths. We are learning about what supports us and what no longer matters. 

My family is on its own tightrope as we care for my father who is looking to the other side. He is peaceful and calm and grateful for the care he is receiving, but he is also ready, oh so ready, for this part of his life's journey to be over. He is ready to be received, welcomed by the God who loves him, the God who will say, "Well done, Richard, my good and faithful servant."

Some days the tightrope seems to stretch-out longer than the day before, and some days the other side seems close at hand. Some days are windier than others, making the journey even harder. Some days walking the tightrope feels lonely, but more often the support and love of others is within reach.

Perhaps you know these feelings, too. 

I rejoice in and take heart from the tightrope walker's skill, his ability to conquer fear and move forward. Perhaps you will, too. 

An Invitation
What does your tightrope look like, feel like right now? What causes you to lose your balance and how do you get yourself back up into standing position? I would love to know. 










                          
                        
                    

Sidewalk Poetry:Thursday's Reflection

         

                                       

                               I don't know enough

                               about balance to tell you

                               how to do it

                               I think, though

                               it's in the trying

                               and the letting go

                               that the scales measuring

                               right and wrong --quiver

                               and stand still

                                                    Georgia A. Greely

My morning walks nurture me in many ways. I awaken to beauty and take care of my body. I allow ideas and new perspectives to flow through me, and sometimes I even solve a nagging problem. I observe and appreciate the ways people take care of their homes, and when I notice a home that looks neglected, I wonder about the story behind the front door.

And sometimes I read poetry, thanks to the over 1000 poems stamped on St Paul sidewalks. (Sidewalk poetry) Many of which are in our neighborhood. Most recently, I noticed the one pictured above on the sidewalk outside of the dry cleaners at the corner of St Clair and  Cleveland. Had I not spotted this one before? Had I walked right over the words and not received their gift? Probably.

"Perhaps I need these words now," I said to myself, as I paid a bit more attention to the way I was walking, making sure I didn't lose my balance. 

Balance is one of the issues older people hear a lot about. We are encouraged to do certain exercises to maintain our balance and prevent falls. But here is another perspective--the encouragement to let go, or at least try, in order to balance the quivering scales. How hard it is to maintain balance when we hold on to weighty stuff from the past--regrets, sadness and loss, the betrayals, hurts, and disappointments. 

Of course, letting go is not easy, and I think being balanced is an elusive goal, but trying is key to our ongoing growth. 

During my morning meditation right now I am reading Living an Examined Life, Wisdom for the Second Half of the Journey by James Hollis, PhD, and on the same day I encountered the poem about balance I read this:

          Just as we periodically clean the house, go through

          old clothes and fashions and discard the no longer

          germane, so we have to go through our accumulated

          histories, our driving attitudes, reflexes, and responses,

          and discard what is no longer useful, productive, 

          relevant, or serving growth.

When we let go of those burdens, we can stand straighter, taller and be more balanced in body, mind, and spirit. 

An Invitation

How balanced are you?  I would love to know.  

A Gentle Reminder and Open Invitation

On Tuesday, June 5 from 7-9:30 I will participate in a reading, along with other members of Authors' Circle. We will be reading from works in progress, and you are invited. The free event will be held at 2615 Park Avenue South, Minneapolis, MN.  https://www.facebook.com/events/416831295437677/permalink/428351497618990/