I saw these rocks walking on Philbin beach on Martha’s Vineyard last week. I have been thinking about balance – about the dynamic, fluid, elusive quality of balance – emotional, physical, relational – about finding it, losing it, finding it again. I am interested in the way that each action or event in our lives creates a series of reactions and corrections – a relentless, inevitable experience of fall and recovery.
When I was just starting to study movement and somatics, it was a revelation to discover that the simple act of walking was about falling out of and regaining balance. I am curious about how much work I invest in not falling. And what is falling? Failure? Loss? Disappointment? Fear?
Our oldest daughter’s announcement of an unexpected, unwanted (by us) pregnancy and subsequent TOTAL recalibration of her life path and our careful plans for her was a big fall. (An old AA joke: Want to know how to make God laugh? Tell him your plans.)
I wrote this in my journal a few weeks ago: We are here. She is poised at the precipice. She stumbles, her body jerks and then her feet leave the ground and she is in freefall. We stand below, watching her plummet. I pray. Is there a moment when falling becomes flight?
Yesterday we bought her the first little onesie and a couple pieces of clothing to accommodate her growing belly. We are planning a wedding. She is happy. Over the weeks, we as a family are stumbling and teetering toward a new and unexpected balance, one which feels to me like flight, like swimming, like faith.