AN ARABESQUE OF LIFE

I was writing a long report on all the "events" of the week. But I couldn't finish it, and I was jotting down this bit, and thought, "well, it seems to work on it's own." So here it is. I am fine, but on the bus and very busy at work. No time to really read or write blogs!

I don't want to merely cling to the tightrope of life, grasping my way across it, eyes clenched in terror, dreading the inevitable fall.

I don't want to fling myself across it, like a child on the school monkey bars. Hand over hand, shouting, laughing, and taunting the other children. Boasting of my ablilities without awareness beyond a skinned knee or bruised palm.

I don't want to walk across it carefully, balancing with both arms, enjoying the rush of the rocking and those small but managable slips in balance.

No, for me there must be some art. And for there to be some art, there must be some risk. There must be an awareness of the danger of the fall, but complete trust in my own balance.

Perhaps the only way to achieve the beauty of the tightrope artist is to let go and just let the rope and the winds and the height mold me into a perfect somersault, a daring backflip, a ballarina arabesque on the edge of a thread.

To have faith that by yielding a wee bit to the sway, I will find my balance again, and beauty will be restored.

UNTIL NEXT TIME, TOODLE ON!!!