Little Wobbles Everywhere

Slack line under foot, he wobbled. Not the wobble of a foot, or an ankle, but a little wobble of the mind.

Am I even doing this right?

Who’s to say, but having come this far there was no way for him to turn back. No choice but to push on single minded. Conquer or be conquered.

Taking another step into the void, his footing felt sure. Knees bent, core tight, arms outstretched. Running methodically through the checklist of instructions to reassure himself. But still the wobble persisted.

How much longer can I keep this up?

It was thoroughly unclear. With nothing apparently wrong there was equally nothing to correct. Banal as it may be, trusting the process was seemingly the only choice.

Stepping again, his weight shifted on the elasticized surface. But this time, finally comforted by the previous successes, the displacement of body through space felt utterly routine. Band expanding beneath him, he used the brief reprieve from worry to glance along the outstretched path.

Surely I can reach the end?

Another step. He closed his eyes. Vision gone, focus lay entirely on the slight reverberations through the body as it prepared to make its next move. Plunging into the darkness there was a surety in his steps that betrayed nothing of the fact that he could no longer see the end of the line.

Slowly opening his eyes he was transported from the darkness into the meagre light of another morning. World still shrinking from the expansiveness of the void to contain nothing but the four walls around him, he rose from bed. Time for the morning routine to begin and autopilot to take over.

Coffee. Breakfast. Exercise. Shower. Work.

No wobble to be found in the morning's consistency. Where every movement is punctuated by efficiency as the day's purpose begins to unfurl.

Sitting down at the desk, he flicked through the pages and stopped to carefully take in neatly printed bullet points on the last one. After jotting down a few notes the little black notebook was placed back in its customary spot. Just out of the way but still quickly accessible, the leather bound ledger - this mastermind of his daily life - watched over.

Meeting A. Project A. Meeting B. Project B. Project C.

Afternoon replaced morning, slipping away in a steady rhythm of typing, noting and evaluating. The lines stricken through in the little black book forming concrete evidence of constant progress. The only shifting of weight corresponding to little twinges of discomfort from an old seat.

When the bullets on the page began to dwindle, he breathed a sigh of relief. Another day vanquished to a well-written history. But a lone beam of sunlight peeking through his little shuttered window reminded him that the day wasn’t yet over.

Appointment. Chores. Dinner. Coursework. Reading.

Moving through the day's final tasks mechanically, the mind wandered only as far as the notebook. It’s final few bullets, so few just a short while ago, had multiplied. Revealing to his now unencumbered mind a litter of other potential lines to be penned.

Sinking into a different, but equally old seat, he put a forkful of yesterday’s leftovers to his mouth. Rummaging through the memories of the day, and then the week, for something that stood out, he was startled by the buzz of the phone in his pocket.

This must be a mistake.

Opening the weekly portfolio report, the one that was poured over but never adjusted, suddenly there was a definite stand out. Company X had for some reason inexplicable to him, massively outperformed his meek expectations. A windfall was his.

$20,000 richer then he expected to be at this time of the day, in fact $20,000 richer then he expected to be this year, he sat back down at his desk. Those last few bullet points still needed to be scrawled down in the little black book lest he forget them. Shifting his weight constantly he finally remembered the last note to be made.

What now?

And just like that, the wobble had jumped the gap. Leaping from dream to steadfast reality. Hurtling itself to the forefront, forcing the pen to waver on its line.

Stepping forward on the slackline, he could see the end just a short ways ahead. The security of the ground on the other end promising safe haven from his tense and calculated journey. An eternity of precise steps had led him here and with just a few more he would fling himself onto the solidity of his goal.

Now I’m closer.

But just as before the wobble began. Not the wobble of a foot, or an ankle, but a little wobble of the heart.

Suspended by the line that had now become so familiar, void and ground blurred. And that precarious but trustworthy line disappeared from beneath him. Plummeting through space, an entirely unknown and unplanned end awaited.

But as he fell, the little wobble of the heart grew hopeful.