Tag Archives: slingshot

One Common Denominator

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When you spend the majority of your life wondering why each attempt at progress ultimately lands at the feet of failure, it could be wise to start taking inventory of the repeating variables.

If every social situation feels strained. If the looping cycle of start, stop, and repeat has scarred you with burns of a broken skipping record. If it seems like the world is reading a different page. If the inconceivability of normalcy is shocking. If there’s a security in remaining a prisoner to your own thoughts because that’s the only space where safety lives…then the obstacle to happiness and fulfillment is you. Well, I am finally ready to raise my hand into the air and admit that I am the problem.

I am the metaphorical lawnmower, starting with a forceful pull, attacking the task at hand, and then sputtering out in a cloud of smoke and burned clippings. Loud and resolute, my job is unyielding. Opinions and criticism are casualties left in the wake of my obsessive focus, eyes fixed on the finish line. Optimistic for options, I am seduced by the notion of possibility. Then, the tower of cards inevitably crumbles. I curse the lack of horsepower and blame the grass for being damp. But I’m the one who decided to mow in the rain.

My preferences too rigid and my lifestyle too stubborn, I alienate to maintain a false notion of control. Then I expect an illusory support system to cradle my artistic ideals for the betterment of the big picture. But that’s not how people operate. It’s how robots are programmed.

Until I stare into that mirror long enough to see why the fly is flailing in the ointment, I will continue to ride that slingshot back to start.

But identifying the sharpness of the thorn is the first step in facilitating its removal.

Adolescence Interrupted

Sweet Spot

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Over the last two years, I have painted a picture of a life in constant flux. Towering highs danced with terrifying lows, and clenched jaws were often more familiar than easy grins. Riding roller coaster waves has become something steady and expected. But every once in a while, the universe grants us that perfect succession of events, and we become surfers on a glassy tube. These moments may be fleeting, but they serve as fuel for the empty stretches on that desert road in the distance.

I’m happy to report that this past week provided windows with unobstructed views on two different days, and those instances certainly satisfied the requirements for a healthy reserve uptake. I’ve learned to embrace that alignment of energetic forces—refusing to question how or why they are presented—and inhale the fresh air of perspective for as long as the oxygen is available.

As tennis players, we are taught to strike the ball cleanly at a section of the racquet where the strings specifically intersect to provide the optimum “slingshot effect,” utilizing the full capability of the frame to generate the maximum return from the effort dedicated to the practice. This same principal can be applied to every undertaking.

Set your focus, track the target, steady your feet, take a deep breath, position the sweet spot…and pounce.

Adolescence Interrupted

Seeing the Sometimes Rainbow

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rainbow2There are moments when it seems like each puzzle piece has fallen perfectly into place. No square pegs are trying desperately to squeeze into position, and no rogue idea or action is fighting against the flow of the grain.

These instances are incredibly uncommon and this realization is best evidenced by almost every entry on this blog since the beginning of 2014. Existence is often an uphill climb with little thrill in the arms-in-the-air relief from the drop on the other side. We plot and plan, toil and till with some hope that the efforts made will cultivate a crop worth preserving. But uncontrollable variables generally have ideas of their own.

So, I’m overjoyed to report that this summer has offered a respite from the incessant slingshot. For the first time in a long time, positive energy met positive momentum and that dynamic duo has paved a rare golden road of hope, confidence, promise, and self-satisfaction. This was years in the making, but I’m finally able to harvest the fruits of my labor.

Possibilities have taken the place of pigeonholes and the vulnerability is something I can embrace, as opposed to shelter. The key is to maximize the momentum and fuel the fire. I’m far too familiar with the frosty chill that accompanies a stalled trajectory.

So, with steady eyes and a helpful boost from the universal puppet master, I’m walking down a self-generated path. Head high. Focus set. A road of my own creation. A purpose born from pain.

This smog-laden air never smelled so sweet.

Adolescence Interrupted