As the Sway Calms

It feels like having an addiction to something, in this case a stable footing, then realizing that you don’t need it or want it anymore. What I love more than the fulfillment of an intense, hard to resist, desire is when the desire ceases. I find I don’t even want it. I am happier without it. On the slackline I come to the place where I let go of control-freak-ish- ness. I first tried to force a handhold out of thin air; I now relax my hands by my side, or, on the occasion, I tuck them neatly into welcoming pockets. It is a nice experience.

What begins as a shake becomes a sway. The shake feels like the ground betraying you, a sabotage of your safety. It seems “how could anyone do this?” And, “I won’t be able to do this.” This is an uncontrollable shake. It is interesting because one has to accept the shaking to proceed. At some point the shake dies down or is converted into something that feels like a close friend. This is when the addiction starts. It is a spectacular feeling, to overcome the shaking enemy and to “hang out” with the bounce, the sway, the feeling of floating. I find a desire to revisit the transformation.

The close friend is the movement of the slackline. The movement is no longer out of control but is predictable, even is used to maintain balance. I become fond of the manner in which I can move the slackline under my center of gravity. Movement used to be and enemy now is it the handhold or foothold that I was grasping at before. I was grasping wildly at the air for something that was always there touching me. I wanted something to walk beside me, but what was needed was the very thing that was under me.