My good friend describes his life as what exists between the swings of the pendulum. Moving from one extreme to the other. I can relate; years ago I described my life to someone as a sine wave moving along a graph. He was pretty horrified by the thought and said he preferred to live life in the middle, escaping the extremes. The thought of having no high-highs and low-lows horrified me. I love the extremes. I live within the swings of the pendulum. My life is contrast.
Once I thought that living that way meant I had to allow myself to become immersed in the low-lows when they moved in and covered me with inky blackness, taking me to the depths of my inescapable inner cave. Now I’ve figured out how to ride the wave, moving from high-high to less-high and then back up again. The cave is filled with light, and when I want to explore the dark recesses still there, I know I have the choice to move outward into the light again.
I still feel the shift in contrast, though, but no longer does it take me to the depths. I don’t feel a lack when the high-highs move away, only a change. This past week has been filled with contrast, and I’ve been riding an undulating wave of movement from one crest to another. The intensity of some of those moments has been exquisite, almost-but-not-quite painfully so, multiple bright orange-red explosions of juicy in-the-moment sensation, the rightness and perfection of the moment becoming crystal clear. In the flow. The universe has lined up.
It’s the contrast from these moments of near-perfection to the ordinariness of all the other moments that brings it all into sharp focus. Today I made coffee. Danced. Read my email. Looked out the window at the wind’s effects on the tree across the street. Texted some friends to check in with their day. Breathed in and out.