I consider balance some unbreakable natural law, and so I’ve never worried about it. Trying to tame things doesn’t work as well as letting them find their own way. And the latter method is always more pleasant. But lately, accepting has been work.
Some four years ago, I left my last life for my current one. My faith became a moving target. I didn’t lose it altogether, but my once ever-present positive attitude took a hit. Blame it on age, a new routine, or clutter – whatever was happening added a new dimension to my routine: doubt.
I’ve always gone my own way or let life lead me down a path. At any given time, I was in exactly the right place. Now, I feel challenged. I’ll spend energy thinking about outcomes, or frayed connections, or how many more heartbeats there are. And when I do, the film Moonstruck rolls in my head; Cher confronts Nicholas Cage, slaps him, and screams, “Snap out of it.”
There’s enough of my past in my present to snap me out of most situations. I can hold myself up; I just don’t have the franchise on going it alone that I once did. My independence has evolved into dependence. I’m learning how a part of everything else I am. And that we all enable balance by being there for others. I may have been unfamiliar with doubt, but it’s become a gift to me.
For as long as I’ve stood at a bench, my only partners have been the metal, some tools, and my mood on a given day. I’m becoming aware of how small a collaboration it is compared to what happens when I’m standing everyplace else.
When I left my last life for my current one, I didn’t anticipate or plan, I simply trusted. I now realize I never left one or arrived at another.
