SeeSaw

This morning on my run I passed a sign for a nearby playground with a picture of a seesaw on it (the fact that there wasn't actually a seesaw in the playground, or come to think of it, ever a seesaw that i've seen in an NYC playground made me want to find one somewhere. but i digress). It got me thinking about the nature of trust, balance and what we see and don't see right in front of us.

In the last week I've started this new job where I work primarily on my own and that can be really peaceful, but also somewhat stressful in that I'm not totally sure the process of how the whole thing works yet. But it's coming slowly and I'm starting to trust that I'm not completely f$*&ing it up, yet I realize that not having the ability to just walk across an aisle and ask someone is actually a bit awesome&terrifying. I've been ruminating on the nature of dependency: How there's sometimes a little buzzing need under the surface of the skin to be able to look out and see yourself reflected in another human, whether that's someone doing a similar something or just someone you want to be there.

The thing about the seesaw is that there is someone working with you, balancing out the activity, and you might have your eye on them, but you can't really get any closer than you are. there's trust they'll do what they need to in order that the rhythm keeps going, or you agree to stop. And, as I remember it from my seesawing days, sometimes the someone on the other end drops out of view, below the line of vision, for just a split second—or maybe that was just when I closed my eyes—but in any case, the sense of flying solo, yet being supported is magnificent.

I've been having that seesaw reminder in a particular relationship at present, where a certain amount of trust is called into action because although that someone may seem out of emotional sight lines for the moment, they haven't jumped off the ride altogether, and hopefully are gaining some momentum and free-flying fun of their own. Yet then when eyes do meet across the space, there's a gladness to know said person's there, figuring out the right balance, speed, etc.

Often in class during the dance i feel the give-and-take presence of who's on the other side, balancing out the rhythm in the room. and while my eyes are often closed, I can feel they're all there and putting just as much faith into the movement as I am. they might be surprised that we're going faster or slower, but generally we're all in it together.

As i lift and fall through these moments I'm glad to know I'm sharing the balance, yet can also feel my legs getting stronger with each proverbial push.