The Balance

Balance. Being evenly distributed. Remaining upright or steady.

For an “all or nothing person,” balance can be hard or tricky.

Let us picture a young horse. He’s saddled up, raring to go. His rider gives him the go-ahead. He takes off, but then, his rider tugs him back. The horse thinks: “I thought he wanted me to go?” He becomes confused and disappointed. He stops walking. The rider urges him forward again, but at a walk. This is not what the horse expected when he was told to “go.” He feels disheartened.

As they continue to walk along, he begins to notice things that he hadn’t before on this path. Things he had missed while tearing by at a gallop. A sweet patch of grass. A garden of flowers. Forest friends. He begins to feel a rhythm with his rider. A camaraderie. He starts to sense his rider’s feelings, his desires. The horse feels an inward focus that fills him with joy and peace. He feels safe and at one with his rider.

One day the horse and rider come to an open field. The rider guides the horse over to a pond. He encourages him to drink. The rider wades into the pond and starts to swim. He splashes the horse and calls him in. The horse is slightly confused. “What is this?” He wonders. “Why is my rider swimming and splashing? We still have walking to do.”

The rider comes out of the water, and approaches the horse. He rubs his head, and starts to remove his bridle. He removes the bit from the horse’s mouth, and the saddle from his back. The horse is suddenly unencumbered; he is light and free. This feels strange. He had come to embrace the feeling of following his rider’s lead; of the security of the saddle, the bridle and bit.

Suddenly his rider starts to run across the field and laugh. Instantly the horse finds his feet moving across the ground swiftly. He chases the rider. He feels the wind. He feels overwhelming joy. This is what he was meant for! To run, to be free! He approaches the rider. He nuzzles his hand. He understands. This is also what he is meant for. To be still. To be loved. To be connected. To be balanced.

The horse feels an enormous capacity of love for the rider. He’s grateful for all he’s taught him. He ponders the journey he’s been on. The journey that is still to come. He trots over to the rider. He nudges him – it’s time to get going. He welcomes the saddle, the bridle, the bit. He cherishes the feel of the rider on his back as they set off.

As they obtain a steady pace, the horse and the rider pass another rider on a young horse who is racing and stopping, racing and stopping.

The horse neighs gently. His rider nods and smiles and pats his neck…

The Place In Between

You took the leap. You made the choice. You jumped in, and there’s no turning back.

What now?

Your emotions are screaming at you, your mind is questioning you, and it feels like your whole being is against you. Change is hard. Change is necessary, but it is hard. Even if it’s for improvement, it can be hard.

There’s a place in between the place where you were, and the place you are going that is vulnerable. It’s uncertain. You know what you’re leaving, and you might know where you’re going, but you don’t know how to get there. Where’s the road map? What’s the next step?

That’s the place in between.

When you step into that place, hold on to your seat, ’cause it’s about to get bumpy. People will ask you “what are you going to do now?” Bump. You might experience an overwhelming missing of the comfort you had of knowing what your day to day looked like. Bump. You might have cascading doubt pour over you about the decision you just made. Bump. And then there’s fear of failure. Bump.

Bump..bump…bump….

Ah, but just like a bouncy ball, these bumps will subside. The wind will calm. The storm will cease. The fog will lift.

And you’ll step forward onto that path that your dreams are calling you too. That path that won’t be denied any more. You’ll walk slowly at first. Looking around as you go. Feeling your way forward. And then your stride will start to quicken with purpose. You’ll look straight ahead.

This is what you were meant for. This is what dreams are made of. This is what comes after you cross that place in between.

Hope, The Thing That Keeps Us Alive.

Hope, definition: a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.

Hope gets a bad rap for being something that’s weak. Like it’s about as powerful as a wish. And yet, it’s so much more than that. It’s a stirring, a longing inside, the beginning of something; the place where greatness starts.

It emerges as a seed. It germinates, it grows.

It will grow into its full potential if you let it; if you don’t get mad and yank it up by the roots. If you don’t despair and walk away from it. It WILL continue to grow even after you’ve forgotten about it. Even if you only visit it once in awhile. It might grow slowly. It might not look like much at first. But its roots have an anchor. It gets stronger with time. One day it will get big enough to start nudging you: ‘Here I am. Won’t you come visit me again?’

You may have forgotten about it, but it never forgot about you.

It knows you’re meant for greatness. It knows your full potential. It knows how to grow and become a real thing that you can see and touch.

The only way you can kill it is to give up. Cry, yell, scream if you must. Only do not end its life. To live without hope is to die inside. To lose all meaning and purpose.

In time, if you allow it to grow, to exist, to emerge, you’ll rejoice that you believed in that thing that seemed impossible. That thing that believed in you when you weren’t even sure it was real.

There are things we see through human eyes, and there are things which must be seen through the eyes of vision. The eyes of hope. The eyes of trust.

So hope. Trust. Wait. Discover. And maybe look in on it once in awhile and give it some water.