"I am waiting in a silent prayer
I am frightened by the load I bear..."
I am frightened by the load I bear..."
Sara Groves' song, "Breath of Heaven," is keynoting this post, because it has helped me find my center this morning.
When I look at Mary's story, and I can't help but think about how centered she must have been on God's purpose for her. I believe that it is this alignment with God -- rather than being pulled and tilted in a million little directions by the weight of fear -- that allows us to move forward with grace -- perfectly centered on Love's purpose for us.
And that is what this post is all about -- centering. And balance.
As a dancer, finding my core - aligning myself with a central thread which runs straight through my being -- then moving out from that core-centered sense of my orientation to the space I am in, has always allowed me to move freely, confidently, gracefully, fearlessly, and boldly.
Pausing to realign my sense of body -- even for a millisecond - was critical to moving with beauty and balance.
So what does this have to do with today -- and everyday.
As a woman, wife, mother, daughter, sister, partner, neighbor, professional, I spent many years trying to keep my life in balance. That meant rushing back and forth, round and round, trying to evenly distribute the weight -- of time, money, attention, focus -- so that nothing tipped over.
I remember when the twins were toddlers, how obsessed I became with an even distribution of my time, attention, resources, and affection between all three of our children.
I can recall nights when I would actually count how many times I'd rubbed one of the girl's backs -- during hymns and prayers -- to make sure that my time was evenly distributed and fairly meted out.
But one day, all that changed. I was failing at this kind of balancing. I never felt as if I was giving enough to anyone -- compared to what I'd given another. And I always felt as if I was running around a big plate placing a little here, only to tip it to the point that I now had to run to the other side and try to even things out from there.
I decided to look up the word balance in the tattered old dictionary on my office shelf. And that was when I remembered what it felt like to be balanced as a dancer. The first definition read:
When I look at Mary's story, and I can't help but think about how centered she must have been on God's purpose for her. I believe that it is this alignment with God -- rather than being pulled and tilted in a million little directions by the weight of fear -- that allows us to move forward with grace -- perfectly centered on Love's purpose for us.
And that is what this post is all about -- centering. And balance.
As a dancer, finding my core - aligning myself with a central thread which runs straight through my being -- then moving out from that core-centered sense of my orientation to the space I am in, has always allowed me to move freely, confidently, gracefully, fearlessly, and boldly.
Pausing to realign my sense of body -- even for a millisecond - was critical to moving with beauty and balance.
So what does this have to do with today -- and everyday.
As a woman, wife, mother, daughter, sister, partner, neighbor, professional, I spent many years trying to keep my life in balance. That meant rushing back and forth, round and round, trying to evenly distribute the weight -- of time, money, attention, focus -- so that nothing tipped over.
I remember when the twins were toddlers, how obsessed I became with an even distribution of my time, attention, resources, and affection between all three of our children.
I can recall nights when I would actually count how many times I'd rubbed one of the girl's backs -- during hymns and prayers -- to make sure that my time was evenly distributed and fairly meted out.
But one day, all that changed. I was failing at this kind of balancing. I never felt as if I was giving enough to anyone -- compared to what I'd given another. And I always felt as if I was running around a big plate placing a little here, only to tip it to the point that I now had to run to the other side and try to even things out from there.
I decided to look up the word balance in the tattered old dictionary on my office shelf. And that was when I remembered what it felt like to be balanced as a dancer. The first definition read:
"perfectly centered on the fulcrum"
A fulcrum is the point on which something rests. Imagine a teeter-totter (or a see-saw) the plank is centered on a beam. That beam is the fulcrum.
Or imagine a small plate that is being balanced on the eraser end of a pencil. One can either put the plate on the pencil and then try to adjust the weight around the edge of the plate so that there is even distribution, or center the plate perfectly on the eraser tip.
As I dancer, I could either try to make sure that I was putting the same amount of weight on both sides of my body, our I could realign myself with my core. One made me feel wobbly -- and was virtually impossible and implausible to do while dancing beautifully. The other allowed me to dance with confidence, strength, and grace.
So, back to my life. I'd been rushing around madly trying to make sure that I was giving everyone (and everything) their fair share. When what I really needed to do was continually realign myself with God. To constantly have God at the center of everything I do keeps me in alignment and leads to a balanced sense of living, loving, and being in the world.
Every dancer knows that a good choreographer has built in counts that give you an opportunity to pause long enough to make sure that you are in core alignment before another series of demanding movements. I believe that God, the Great Choreographer, builds these into my life. I just have to be "marking" my steps and listening for those moments of "rest" He has provided for me in my day.
In Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy says that:
Or imagine a small plate that is being balanced on the eraser end of a pencil. One can either put the plate on the pencil and then try to adjust the weight around the edge of the plate so that there is even distribution, or center the plate perfectly on the eraser tip.
As I dancer, I could either try to make sure that I was putting the same amount of weight on both sides of my body, our I could realign myself with my core. One made me feel wobbly -- and was virtually impossible and implausible to do while dancing beautifully. The other allowed me to dance with confidence, strength, and grace.
So, back to my life. I'd been rushing around madly trying to make sure that I was giving everyone (and everything) their fair share. When what I really needed to do was continually realign myself with God. To constantly have God at the center of everything I do keeps me in alignment and leads to a balanced sense of living, loving, and being in the world.
Every dancer knows that a good choreographer has built in counts that give you an opportunity to pause long enough to make sure that you are in core alignment before another series of demanding movements. I believe that God, the Great Choreographer, builds these into my life. I just have to be "marking" my steps and listening for those moments of "rest" He has provided for me in my day.
In Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy says that:
"Fear, which is an element of all dis-ease,
must be cast out
to readjust the balance for God."
must be cast out
to readjust the balance for God."
When I put Love -- another name for God, and the opposite of fear -- at the center of my life and let it be the only music I dance to, I am free to walk, and leap, and praise God with a free, and balanced, heart.
offered with Love,
Kate
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