Teetering

I've never been a circus performer, but I've been in the audience a number of times in my life.  We went to the "Greatest Show on Earth when I was pretty little and saw the shortest man in the world.  There was a life-size  poster of him in the program.  I kept it for years.  I remember getting tickets to the Big Apple Circus in Boston.  I got really choked up when the kids and I actually made it there--with my sense of direction,  I had said some pretty fervent prayers that day.  In Texas, we went down to an open field and watched them put up the tents for the small traveling circus.

We've been to the circus twice since we've been in Stockton.   Even with animal-rights activists protesting, trying to block people from walking through the animals cage area, we still managed to have a great time.  Bello the clown, with his hair standing up, was a big part of the experience and the kids got to go down before the show and try on some of the costumes and meet some of the performers.

My favorite part of the circus has always been the tightrope walkers.  Watching them gives me that tingly, excited feeling--like a Ferris wheel or looking over the Grand Canyon.  Today though, as I was saying my  prayer this morning, I actually said the words,  "Bless me to stop teetering."  I realized later this afternoon that maybe I'm a tightrope walker.

I'm going along carefully,  always carefully,  trying to place my feet where I don't think there will be any surprises, avoiding things that might trigger a failure in my balance, but there always seems to be a breeze--doesn't have to even be a big one, or I forget that I have to concentrate and down I go.  One side of my rope is terrible sadness and despair and the other is just the glimmer of brightness and happiness, but it comes with huge guilt at being able to live, even for a minute, when Ian can't.  One side is manic--keeping myself so busy that I can't think or feel.  The other is not even being able to pick myself up off the bed.  Either way I lean, it's the same result--a long horrible fall into the sawdust with no net.  I'm teetering all day everyday.

I don't like falling.  I don't have that tingly feeling.  I can't stay  perched  here forever.   I wonder how long you have to practice before you're ready for the center ring?!