The Pogo Stick

Maybe some other dinosaur out there (could that mean YOU?) will remember the glories/challenges of an outdated pole-of-a-toy with jumping capabilities: the infamous pogo stick. I can recall hopping onto the black foot-pads of my pole, one foot at a time, very quickly, and then jumping-jumping-jumping as if spring-loaded while trying to keep the thing “boiinnnng-ing” up and down for as long as possible.

The compression was similar in theory, I suppose, to the shock absorbers on a car – only in reverse. The appeal of the pogo stick had more to do with releasing the oomph than cushioning it.

An image came to mind early this morning in regard to the pressure factor that defines such compaction in life situations. I sense circumstantial compression sometimes, particularly with tinnitus, which tries to press me into a panic quite regularly. Sprinkle on a dab of this and that (Fritz’s heart issues, my requested repeat mammography, financial concerns, house remodel work, uncertainties in the kids’ lives, whatever) and the squeeze tightens up. The corresponding release can resemble jet-propelled rocketing “to infinity and beyond” (to quote Buzz Light Year).

I realize such “tension” is a matter of striking good balance as much as finding release. Writing works for me. So does walking. Praying, studying scripture, and sharing spiritual truths with others is critical. Time alone (i.e. occasional retreat) can be a balm to my soul.

The pogo stick’s ups and downs are inevitable. My goal is riding them successfully. Today offers yet another opportunity to practice.