I’ve been thinking a lot about balance lately, courtesy, at least in part, of my children’s foray into the wonderful world of ice skating. The pondering began with literal balance; I marveled at my daughter’s ability to stay upright as she successfully navigated the swirly lines etched on the ice by the teacher, her body swishing and swooshing from one end of the rink to the other. I would be happy to be that graceful OFF the ice.
My son’s experience very quickly veered off grace and landed (literally and many, many times) on the side of resilience. The task for the littlest ones was to pick up a toy from a basket, throw it as far as possible, and go pick it up. Eliot fell, and fell, and fell again, each time following the spill with a raised “thumbs up” to let me know he was ok. No matter how many times he tumbled, he got himself up and grabbed some more toys to throw and retrieve, happy as a clam to be on the ice.
Let me tell you in no uncertain terms: I am completely convinced I would have had to be airlifted to the nearest hospital.
During their class, my eyes darted from child to child, each of mine in different sections of the rink with their own age group. I flinched with each potential or actual thump (thankfully, Cora only had a couple), and I wondered where, along the road to becoming who I’ve become, I lost my desire for adrenalin. I know it didn’t stay behind with my first broken bone because many other broken bones followed. What changed me from a basic version of the carefree (if somewhat reckless) creatures my babies are now into the overly cautious adult I am?
You will not find me on ice any time soon (thanks for the save, arthritis!), but maybe I can find balance by pushing limits in other ways. Maybe I can try to be a little bit more active outside of work. Maybe I can try to be more present in the moment. Maybe I can push my creative limits and see beyond the obvious.
Maybe I’ll start today.