Tight rope walker

There is this thin gossamer tether of rope the hangs between who I am and who I will be. To the naked, uneducated eye it appears too thin, too weak and surely unsafe for even the lightest and most skilled of life dancers. But this is the way to get from here to there; there is no sturdy bridge or concrete walk or even the magic of a tesseract to instantly make the distant hope possible. No this is the way.

This rope that keeps connected to all that I can become is not as weak as it appears but a certain amount of determination and yes, even tension is necessary to make the impossible, possible. If this thread is too lax, then it will not support me. I could attempt to dangle over all that lurks below, travel hand over hand while gripping too tight; knuckles white, palms sweating. Truly knowing that each time I grasp, this may be the last, until my strength gives out and I am is lost.

Ah but then if the thread is too tight, if my need drives me to tie it too hard and force it to be something it is not, truly unyielding and static, then also the price will be paid. As I confidently step out one gentle foot after another, feeling secure in how tight I have forced it to be, I would get further than before but soon the tension would be too much. The fibers would begin to strain, the small threads within the rope would fracture and snap. Maybe not all at once, but slowly so that once I am within the very sight of the other side and most assuredly past the point of no return, I will know my fate and how there is now no chance of changing the outcome. After all, once I step out that far, holding on that tight, there is only one way and that way is down.

But then, if I trust this wisp of rope and all that it could mean for me and tie it securely but not forcefully. Wisely but not too loosely, could it get me to that which I seek? This lifeline lies across all that I know and am now. As I step out on this line, this time I  notice fear, self-doubt, bitterness and pain all wildly dancing like a whirling dervish below, occasionally reaching up to drag me down if I should waver or stumble along the way. If I look too long, the whirling becomes a swirling, that will turn into a swaying and I will lose all of my calm hard-fought balance and be caught up in all that commands my will to fall below. But as the old cliché goes, never look down. Keep my head up, gently and with proper respect for where I am, put one foot in front of the other, over and over….do not look to see how close I might be, impatiently expecting success. Do not look behind me to boast of how far I have come. This is not a game or ploy I can afford to lose my friend. The ability is there, the balance can be attained and that impossibly thin, and seemingly invisible rope can guide me to the other side…

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