Imagine waking up and finding that in order to get to your destination that day, you had to walk a tightrope. And anywhere you had to go after had to be via tightrope. Cafe, bakery, doctor, groceries, park…all via tightrope.
And then the next day was the same. And the one after that. And all the days of your life, stretching ahead of you, meant walking a tightrope from the moment you woke to the moment you slept.
But some days the tightrope has too much slack, and you can’t get your balance. You practically have to crawl across. Other days it’s too tight and you bounce too much.
Then, you’re given a tool that helps you balance, and it seems like the tightrope is only a few feet off the ground and not so scary. Until the tool doesn’t work and the tightrope zooms off into the sky, so you can no longer see the world below.
At what point do you say you don’t want to walk the tightrope anymore?
The hands of those who love us can keep us from walking that line alone, and can help us keep our balance when we wobble. I have walked the tightrope of life since I was a teenager. Now, when I wobble, when my line goes slack and is so impossibly high that I can’t breathe, my wife is there to take my hand. She stabilises me and helps me take the next step.
And I’ve realised that there are SO many other tightrope walkers around me. We all feel alone, and yet, we’re all right beside one another, so focused on staying upright, on not falling, that we don’t see the others around us.
Maybe we need to try to look up a little more often. To my fellow tightrope walkers: keep walking. There is beauty around you, and you are part of that beauty. To those who help keep us from stepping off the rope altogether: thank you for the beauty of your patience and for the strength you give us without judgment.
We may not be able to beat this, and we may have some bleak days. But there will also be good days, and there is love. Hold on. Your story, our stories, are not done.