Ordinary time...balancing act

When I rode horses as a child, it was about freedom, fun and speed. Why walk when you could run? The exhilaration of leaning into the air rushing past as your horse sped down the dirt road was intoxicating, liberating and nicely scary. The tumbles I took while doing this had no calming effect on me other than concern for the horse. I learned quickly that good balance was a necessity if you wanted to stay in the saddle. Holding on to the saddle horn (nobody rode English style in South Georgia) was an emergency measure, not good for the long haul. Perhaps my daddy was right to be worried about me breaking my neck if he gave me my own horse.
When I began taking riding lessons as an adult, my teacher began with balance, developing a “good seat”. I learned to regulate my weight in the stirrups, how to adjust the saddle by shifting my weight from one side to the other. The reins were to be held with equal pressure on both sides, lightly but firmly, shifting only when I wanted to change direction. When the horse trotted, I practiced “posting”, adjusting my up and down movement in the saddle, a dance with the horse’s movement. My teacher told me if I normally used my right hand, practice with my left… change the side you mount from…test your balance on your least dominant side…scoop poop with your left hand up instead of your right. Shift back and forth to improve your balance. Learn how to fall because you will fall from the horse from time to time. It is a given.
I have been reading “Learning to Fall” by Phillip Simmons. It is a collection of essays written as he comes to a new reality, living while dying with ALS. One of the essays is titled “In Praise of the Imperfect Life”. He tells the story of settling in at the top of a mountain for the perfect meditation. He sat, balanced his breathing, quieted his thoughts and waited on his vision. A tickle, itch slowly climbed his back as he tried to focus and dismiss the distraction. When he could no longer stand it, he scratched and found a small ant had been climbing his back. Years later, he discovered God was not in the extraordinary but in the ordinary, the ants in the world. He became a seeker of the dark way, the hard way.
For me, keeping balanced, poised, open, aware in the midst of hard ways and happy ways is not the challenge. It is easy to see God when the sun shines brightly and all is warm and well. It is easy for me to find God when I am wounded, off balance and in need of Solid Ground. The in-between place, the place of ordinary time, is more difficult for God seeking simply because it is so ordinary. Days filled with farm chores, bill paying, family tending, oil changes for the car, housekeeping and home making slide by and at the end of the day, I am tired. Perhaps I remembered God but often I do not.
Simmons says, “The imperfect is our paradise”. In our ordinary imperfection, lies our redemption, our salvation, our road to glory, our way home. Let me never stop picking myself up, dusting myself off and getting back in the saddle as I live my extraordinary ordinary life with You. Thank you for the wondrous gift of horses who are my teachers and for falling off now and then. It keeps me humble. Love you…