Thud, Thud

I’ve taken in another instructional video and I continue to practice throwing the juggling balls to the appropriate height, and having them land <thudthud> in my hands. The videos are at a two-ball cascade right now; I tested my three-ball cascade to see if it has improved through my efforts. It has not. I’m OK with that. My life continues to be busy with counseling clients in my internship, getting back to working my actual job, and volunteering for the Crisis Text Line. Throwing and catching balls <thudthud> is a rhythmic escape.

I’ve been wondering if this academic adventure was going to skew more to Spirit or to Community. I honestly suspected community, as there is an active and vibrant juggling community. My daughter engages with her juggling and circus communities at least weekly online. For me though, the throwing and catching of balls <thudthud> blends well with isolation. I mostly prefer to spend the bulk of my time alone; I’m adept at entertaining myself.

I’m generally also skilled at keeping my spirit buoyed. This pandemic is challenging. Increasingly, clients are having panic attacks. People call in not knowing if they are angry or depressed; their emotions are confusing and scary. The ambiguous loss of not knowing when we will hug our friends again has gone to a more threatening despondency of accepting we might never. Sometimes, out of nowhere, I am angry, or frustrated, or hopeless. I’ll have a good flow happening, keeping my spirit up and pressing onward, throwing and catching my ambitions and intentions and then <thudthud> one fumble and they tumble to the ground.

In the instructional videos, to perfect the throws, you deliberately let the balls land on the ground. The placement of dropped balls gives you information of how they were thrown, and the transit they took before falling. When our spirits drop, can we learn from how they fall and where they land? Tracing their path from their drop spots, we might see what tripped us up; perfectionism perhaps, or maybe a tendency to doubt ourselves. “I should be exercising more with this free time” “They probably wouldn’t pick me for that job anyway.” <thudthud>

We can pick those balls back up. We can try again. We’ll drop them again. We can keep trying.

It might not be the Holy Spirit, but it’s sure the human spirit – and by my reckoning, that’s divinity enough.

at the market

At the market the bike lane advocates have
       set up a booth to encourage urban cycling and
       they're giving away silver bells (I got one).
The marketplace din is punctuated 
       by the bright ding ding of bike bells.
Strawberries are in season!
       And the egg lady is smiling and 
       the fair trade coffee in my travel mug
       is finally the perfect temperature.
Sipping the coffee I absorb the colours and sounds
       in small doses. Or try to.
       I never got the hang of microdosing.
Fuck it! Suck it all in, breathe every scent, sweet and foul
       trip on the greens of kale, berries red, golden honey!
Every human here is shining and beautiful
       and I love them all it almost hurts but
       I keep loving them even that one stealing 
       a ripe strawberry and yes even that one
       scowling at the child with the bike bell.