Doran
08-26-2008, 06:07 PM
Contrary to what you may have thought, this isn't a post about losing and gaining weight. It's about how we gain by losing in life. Perhaps this will mean something to those of you who, like me, are in the midst of formidable changes. Just some musings I've decided to put to text.
Lately, I been considering how our emotional lives are like a perpetual seesaw - up, down, up, down. Here! We're at the top of the world. But, oh! Now, we're headed the other direction. Once we get all the way down, we may feel stuck there for time. Of course, on the playground, sitting on the low side, while your buddy dangles helplessly up in the air, is not only a choice but a joke. Not so in life, which at this point feels rather oppressive. Still, most of us eventually figure a way to get ourselves up again. On rare occasions, we may be able to balance exactly in the middle. But judging from my experience, finding that perfect equilibrium is neither easy nor typical. Instead, we continue to teeter, then totter.
If asked which way I'm going just now in my life, I'd say, "Down". I am presently surrounded by a host of anxiety-producing circumstances. Heady stuff. These are issues that, despite weeks of daily grappling, no solution has prevailed. If I could choose to, I'd rise. I'd shoot myself back up to where I can see above the crowd. Instead, I'm down here with grit in my teeth and the dust of the playground wafting up my nostrils.
I find myself thinking of what I've lost on my way down - pieces of my identity which I've outgrown or which no longer serve me. I was once a farmer. I was once a homeschooling parent. For so many years, I was a mere child to my father who longed to protect me even after I no longer felt the need or the desire. Now he is the child, and I am the one trying to protect him. In letting go of these previously assumed roles, I am oft times uncertain of what remains or who I am.
Yet, it occurs to me that even here - perhaps especially here - I am so teachable. I am experiencing situations which expand my understanding of how the world works, of what people feel, of working, and aging and surviving. I am honing my ability to remember that the skies teem with soaring creatures even though I feel wholly unable to fly.
From here, there's always up. Maybe I haven't actually lost those precious identities but instead am in the process of forging new identities from them. Maybe I have to sit at the bottom in order to reconnect with myself, to contemplate what is important and how that shapes me. Flying high, I'm more distractible, giddy and gawking at the feeling of elation that come over me. Being low makes me stop. Think. Ground. Regroup. It enables me to gather the strength needed to push off again, taking with me everything I've gained.
Lately, I been considering how our emotional lives are like a perpetual seesaw - up, down, up, down. Here! We're at the top of the world. But, oh! Now, we're headed the other direction. Once we get all the way down, we may feel stuck there for time. Of course, on the playground, sitting on the low side, while your buddy dangles helplessly up in the air, is not only a choice but a joke. Not so in life, which at this point feels rather oppressive. Still, most of us eventually figure a way to get ourselves up again. On rare occasions, we may be able to balance exactly in the middle. But judging from my experience, finding that perfect equilibrium is neither easy nor typical. Instead, we continue to teeter, then totter.
If asked which way I'm going just now in my life, I'd say, "Down". I am presently surrounded by a host of anxiety-producing circumstances. Heady stuff. These are issues that, despite weeks of daily grappling, no solution has prevailed. If I could choose to, I'd rise. I'd shoot myself back up to where I can see above the crowd. Instead, I'm down here with grit in my teeth and the dust of the playground wafting up my nostrils.
I find myself thinking of what I've lost on my way down - pieces of my identity which I've outgrown or which no longer serve me. I was once a farmer. I was once a homeschooling parent. For so many years, I was a mere child to my father who longed to protect me even after I no longer felt the need or the desire. Now he is the child, and I am the one trying to protect him. In letting go of these previously assumed roles, I am oft times uncertain of what remains or who I am.
Yet, it occurs to me that even here - perhaps especially here - I am so teachable. I am experiencing situations which expand my understanding of how the world works, of what people feel, of working, and aging and surviving. I am honing my ability to remember that the skies teem with soaring creatures even though I feel wholly unable to fly.
From here, there's always up. Maybe I haven't actually lost those precious identities but instead am in the process of forging new identities from them. Maybe I have to sit at the bottom in order to reconnect with myself, to contemplate what is important and how that shapes me. Flying high, I'm more distractible, giddy and gawking at the feeling of elation that come over me. Being low makes me stop. Think. Ground. Regroup. It enables me to gather the strength needed to push off again, taking with me everything I've gained.