Balance Like a Dancer, Fall Like a Fool

 This morning, in the garden, I fell and hurt my back. It was a similar kind of fall as the one that happened several years ago in the woods that put me out of action for nine months!

This time it was in the garden, so there was no messing about. Straight on my back went ice packs and heat from wheat bags. I treat these things seriously.

Someone who is walking is never in balance. Any person walking is making constant adjustments to his or her overall balance, in order to avoid falling down. Walking, and, even more so, running, is the skilful act of falling over without ever hitting the ground.

It’s similar to how I envisage a landing aircraft, which I see as a controlled crash!

Running is only possible if all parts of the system keep moving to correct the runner’s lack of balance. If any part of the runner locks up and stops moving, she will fall over. The elimination by a coach of tics and twitches is a risky business.

The wood, or the ocean, or any natural system, has an ecology that keeps it healthy and dynamic. It, too, is constantly adjusting, searching for the ecological balance that keeps it a living system. Remove one species from the sea, and it might be like asking a runner to run with an arm chopped off. Not impossible, but difficult. Remove another species, and that one might be like chopping off a leg.

If we chop off the leg of an ocean, it will fall over. It will no longer be a living, fluid system in a constant state of re-balancing. It will be a runner without a leg.

It feels that this is what has happened to me. My internal balance is so poor that I have actually forgotten how to run. What do I move first? And then, having moved it, how do I stop myself falling over?

Even walking across a floor comes into this category. If your leg stops moving, or if you trip over something, which is effectively the same thing as your leg just stopping, you fall over. As soon as your body goes out of balance, which happens every time you move something, if you don’t immediately adjust and compensate, you fall over.

For us all, this process of adjustment, balance and flexibility is called “living”. It never stops, and we need to get good at it.

 

 

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About stevehobsonauthor

I am blind, and I hate it. It stinks. But life is still sweet. I have multiple sclerosis, and that stinks too, but life is still sweet. These are my musings.
This entry was posted in Health, Philosophy and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Balance Like a Dancer, Fall Like a Fool

  1. Karen says:

    Dear Steve, your everyday experiences are challenging to say the least – and your way of making them relevant to all of us and our planet is heartwarming, to say the least. Love, Karen Teach xxx

    Like

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