Perhaps finding balance is not about finding solid ground. Perhaps it is simply about being able to stand up straight atop a wavering, towering pole. It will always sway in the wind. There is no halting or hushing the jarring of the Earth. There is no Mecca at the end of our cloying that looks like a stable plateau. In our undying search for balance in life, we never stopped to consider that perhaps it is just unlabored existence against the ceaseless wind.

I’d always waited for it to stop, always thought it would feel like gentle forces, swirling around me in equal, countered satisfaction. I thought it would feel like moving through the world without being tugged or torn in one direction or another. I thought it would feel like still, silent, long awaited peace. And so I never found peace in the swaying. How different is it, really, from the bobbing of waves? A sensation that could put any fragile human to sleep. Suspended here, on our telephone poles, rocking to and fro in the zephyrs of the universe, should this not too feel like a natural, essential state?

How many opportunities have I missed to enjoy my balance? How long have I held what I sought in fallacy? And will I ever get used to a life that is designed to rock me? Will I ever know a total peace in a world that isn’t designed for stillness?