Slacklining through Life
Have you ever been slacklining?
If your answer is yes, keep reading. If your answer is no, I instruct you to shut down your computer or electronic device, and make your way to the nearest park, find a group of people slacklining, and ask to give it a go. It will change your life. Okay, maybe that's an overreaching promise, but it will help you understand this post a little bit more.
The first time I approached a slackline, I was terrified, but I wasn't going to let anyone else know my secret fear. I bravely raised myself onto the line, began to extend my legs so I was standing, and then promptly tumbled off. After a few more shoddy attempts, I eventually gave up on slacklining and regressed to playing with sidewalk chalk (true story). It was a year before I had another opportunity to approach this "hippie" and "crunchy" activity.
This time it was through the same friends that introduced me to the wonderful world of rock climbing. The very friends that kindly challenged me to tackle my fear of heights head on, and encouraged me to push my limits. Through them (whether they know it or not) I came to appreciate the pursuit of holiness, our ascent to Heaven, in a whole new way. But that's a story for another time.
It is these same friends that presented me with another opportunity to wobbly stand on a slackline once more, and step out in trust. Trusting myself, trusting the line, trusting their instruction and encouragement, but, most of all, trusting that I can fall off simply to get right back on. It was a matter of giving myself permission to fail in order to succeed. A freedom that I think so few of us actually possess. Rather, we find ourselves encumbered by fear of failure, expecting perfection without practice. Isn't that the very fear that exists behind our "commitment-phobe" culture? "I'm afraid that I will not be able to keep this commitment; therefore, I won't ever make a commitment. Hence, I cannot fail!"
But, if I'm to be honest, not failing is boring. Safe, maybe, but boring.
I could have stayed on the sidelines, and watched idly as my friends shuffled, hopped, tumbled, and occasionally smoothly walked across that slackline. But, then, I would have missed out on the laughter. All the moments when the only reaction is to laugh at yourself for falling off, or not even being able to get on the line.
I could have stayed on the sidelines, but then I would never have seen what I was actually capable of. I would have never seen that I could take a few steps on the slackline without the assistance of someone's hand.
I could have stayed on the sidelines, but then I would have never improved. I would have never had that victorious moment of finally getting more than halfway across. I would have never had that victorious moment of almost reaching the end. I would have never had that victorious moment of going the distance (cue: Cake's "Going The Distance").
Yes, I could have stayed on the sidelines, but I am grateful that I didn't. Getting on the slackline and falling off repeatedly was a good life lesson. After all, isn't life a little like a slackline--not always stable, a little unpredictable, requiring adaptability and flexibility?
We can live paralyzed by fear, never getting on the slackline, never truly living our lives. Or we can step up and step out. Letting our lives be a little rocky. Letting our lives toss us about a little. Letting our lives be a bit of a risk.
But the pay off is so much greater. We get to see depths of our ability and the depths of our character. We are granted an opportunity to grow and to become more than what we currently are. By stepping out, we are given an opportunity for greatness. And, as Pope Emeritus Benedict reminded us all once, "The world promises you comfort, but you were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness."
My dear netizens and faithful readers, let us all step out onto the slackline, face our fear of failure head on, immerse ourselves in the beautiful wild ride of life, so we can become who we were created to be. Saints.
P.S. When I started this post, it had a completely different theme about "life balance." Amazing what can happen when faced with a blank page. Check out my next post to hear about my thoughts on balance and how it can help us fight temptation.
If your answer is yes, keep reading. If your answer is no, I instruct you to shut down your computer or electronic device, and make your way to the nearest park, find a group of people slacklining, and ask to give it a go. It will change your life. Okay, maybe that's an overreaching promise, but it will help you understand this post a little bit more.
The first time I approached a slackline, I was terrified, but I wasn't going to let anyone else know my secret fear. I bravely raised myself onto the line, began to extend my legs so I was standing, and then promptly tumbled off. After a few more shoddy attempts, I eventually gave up on slacklining and regressed to playing with sidewalk chalk (true story). It was a year before I had another opportunity to approach this "hippie" and "crunchy" activity.
This time it was through the same friends that introduced me to the wonderful world of rock climbing. The very friends that kindly challenged me to tackle my fear of heights head on, and encouraged me to push my limits. Through them (whether they know it or not) I came to appreciate the pursuit of holiness, our ascent to Heaven, in a whole new way. But that's a story for another time.
It is these same friends that presented me with another opportunity to wobbly stand on a slackline once more, and step out in trust. Trusting myself, trusting the line, trusting their instruction and encouragement, but, most of all, trusting that I can fall off simply to get right back on. It was a matter of giving myself permission to fail in order to succeed. A freedom that I think so few of us actually possess. Rather, we find ourselves encumbered by fear of failure, expecting perfection without practice. Isn't that the very fear that exists behind our "commitment-phobe" culture? "I'm afraid that I will not be able to keep this commitment; therefore, I won't ever make a commitment. Hence, I cannot fail!"
But, if I'm to be honest, not failing is boring. Safe, maybe, but boring.
I could have stayed on the sidelines, and watched idly as my friends shuffled, hopped, tumbled, and occasionally smoothly walked across that slackline. But, then, I would have missed out on the laughter. All the moments when the only reaction is to laugh at yourself for falling off, or not even being able to get on the line.
I could have stayed on the sidelines, but then I would never have seen what I was actually capable of. I would have never seen that I could take a few steps on the slackline without the assistance of someone's hand.
I could have stayed on the sidelines, but then I would have never improved. I would have never had that victorious moment of finally getting more than halfway across. I would have never had that victorious moment of almost reaching the end. I would have never had that victorious moment of going the distance (cue: Cake's "Going The Distance").
Yes, I could have stayed on the sidelines, but I am grateful that I didn't. Getting on the slackline and falling off repeatedly was a good life lesson. After all, isn't life a little like a slackline--not always stable, a little unpredictable, requiring adaptability and flexibility?
We can live paralyzed by fear, never getting on the slackline, never truly living our lives. Or we can step up and step out. Letting our lives be a little rocky. Letting our lives toss us about a little. Letting our lives be a bit of a risk.
But the pay off is so much greater. We get to see depths of our ability and the depths of our character. We are granted an opportunity to grow and to become more than what we currently are. By stepping out, we are given an opportunity for greatness. And, as Pope Emeritus Benedict reminded us all once, "The world promises you comfort, but you were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness."
My dear netizens and faithful readers, let us all step out onto the slackline, face our fear of failure head on, immerse ourselves in the beautiful wild ride of life, so we can become who we were created to be. Saints.
P.S. When I started this post, it had a completely different theme about "life balance." Amazing what can happen when faced with a blank page. Check out my next post to hear about my thoughts on balance and how it can help us fight temptation.
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