slackline spirituality

Ever since trying out a slackline for the first time this spring, I was hooked. If you haven't seen it before, it's essentially like tight-rope walking on a 2-inch band between some trees. It takes a ton of focus and stability, and it makes me feel like a jedi, so naturally I pursued it. From the first day of trying and failing, I knew there were important lessons to be gleaned from the slackline. I've waited months to write this post as I've continued searching for the parallels that keep coming up the more that I try balancing on this thing. Here are some of the things I've learned from slacklining that I'm convinced are lessons far greater than I anticipated.



Expect to fall. 
It's the first thing I tell people when they are learning. I tell them, "If you expect to fall, you won't get hurt! You'll be ready." And every time I say it, I let it be a little sermon to myself: expect to fall. Don't expect perfection. Don't be dead-set on getting everything right the first time, or second, or third. Don't take think of failing as a failure. Expect to mess up, and to try again.


Find a stable point. 
This is another rule I give new slackliners. Fix your eyes on a stable point, like where the line meets the tree, and keep your eyes there. If you look down, that's where you'll go (that's what I learned on the balance beam in my gymnastics years, anyway!). As I say it, I hear Scripture bouncing around in my head: "And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith" (Hebrews 12), or "But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 3). In life, we might be shaking and losing our balance and regaining it again, but we have to keep our eyes fixed on a stable point: Jesus. The psalmist calls God a rock over and over again. He is our stability, the one thing we can and must count on to never change. 


Wobbling shows your strength.
Each time a new slackliner gets up on the line, supported by my hand, they start wobbling like crazy. Each and every one says, "Why can't I stop the wobbling?!" Some get so frustrated that they stop. I remind them that the crazy wobbling is actually part of the process of their mind and body learning how to balance on the line, and build the muscles needed to hold their balance. As they progress to standing on the line without my hand, often they will flail back and forth, trying and trying and trying to stay on the line, only to fall eventually (of course!). They'll say something like, "Man, that was terrible!" But I'll remind them, "Actually, that was really impressive. Which is harder, to stay on the line while you're shaking like crazy, or to stay on the line when everything is still?" Anyone can stand on an unmoving-surface. But when things feel like they're moving underneath you, when life is chaotic and turbulent - that's when your true strength is known.


Let go with your other foot.
Most people naturally want to step up onto the line and then immediately put their second foot up as well. It just feels like putting both feet on the line should give you more control, but in reality it gives you way less control. I'm constantly reminding people to let go with the second foot and work on gaining their balance on just one foot. It's easier to balance with your two arms and a leg to use for adjusting, and easier to keep your hips centered when you don't have one foot behind another. And walking is just the process of switching from balancing on one foot to balancing on the other foot, but rarely both. However, it's still so hard for most people to lift up that foot. It's hard to let go of what we think is control. But I have a hunch that we might find that there is far more stability when we let go.



It's not about speed.
As a jedi master, I taught Jasmine to repeat this mantra on the slackline with me: It's not about speed. It's about balance. The balance of light and dark. Epic. Okay, Star Wars aside, it truly isn't about speed. Sure, some people could probably make it across the line really quickly after tons of practice. But for the most part, trying to race across the line poses the greatest risk of getting hurt. And it's honestly less impressive because it's trying to bypass the entire point - holding your balance. And yet so often in the processes of life, especially processes of growth, we feel like it's all about speed. We can't believe we're not fixed yet, not perfect yet, not the person we want to be yet. Keep giving it time. The slow, steady, patient, tiring, wobbly process is the one that will get you to the other side.






I'm getting pretty good at slacklining, at least the walking part. I hope I'm getting a little better at these deeper truths as well, and I'm amazed at how the parallels I've seen on the slackline line up so perfectly with what I have been learning. I've been re-learning that perfection is not achievable, and that imperfection is so okay and so normal. I've known that Jesus is my only hope, my only stable point around which I can orient everything else. I've been learning to acknowledge and actually believe that the wobbly turbulence of my emotions isn't a sign of weakness, but actually demonstrates strength in the perseverance through it. I'm learning to let go of control - or, at least I hope I am. I'm aware of my need to let go, and I'm praying for it to happen. And I'm learning that this process of becoming like Jesus is going to take way, way longer than I'd like, but that God is just pleased to be along with me on the slow, intimate journey, where it was never about speed to begin with.


I guess I can't have a pastime without it turning into a parallel. God knew what He was up to with this one!