The Slide

The other day I was reflecting on life’s journey. In my youth I had looked at life as a straight path. My goal was always clear in my mind as to my spiritual direction. Then, as the saying goes, “life happened”. Now, in my forties, I sense that life is more like a maze than a straight path. Certain turns do lead to dead ends. At first I looked at these missteps as time lost. Today, however, I see them as valuable, even sacred, steps in what constitutes “my path”.

I remember a few years ago my path was quite challenging. In my personal life, events were transpiring that required all my available spiritual, emotional, and physical strength. To be honest, at certain moments, I felt unequalled to the challenge. So, to reflect on what was and perhaps even to regain the strength and fortitude of youth, it occurred to me to visit my childhood stomping grounds. This visit was to become an awakening lesson in perspectives.

I returned to the park I used to play in as a child. Of course, it had drastically altered in my absence. Gone was the main attraction, ‘THE SLIDE’. That simple structure of metal that became the barometer of courage for generations of little boys and girls trying to become masters of their own confusing, ever-changing worlds.Now, it’s hard to estimate how tall the slide actually was. No doubt it wasn’t the hundred-foot image I had of it as a child. Whatever its actual size, at that time, it was daunting to my friends and me. Access to the slide was gained by climbing up a ladder to a platform. This platform gave access to two slides at right angles to each other. Conquering the slide was accomplished in stages that were well followed by your playground peers. It was a process that took many years and each stage was a rite of passage.

Stage one consisted of being able to climb the ladder without mommy or daddy being directly behind you. Stage two was accomplished by climbing back up to the platform by scampering up the slide instead of using the ladder. Stage three meant sitting on wax paper as you slid down the slide--a truly scary experience the first few times (Indeed, warp speed had yet to enter our vocabulary, but if it had we certainly would have used it). Next came the courage to climb over the railing on the platform and slide down the center support pole like a fireman. The fifth and final test was reversing that process by climbing back up the pole and maneuvering yourself onto the platform. Not something for the faint of heart, as at one point you are dangling off the edge of the platform as you prepare to swing a leg up to secure a hold.

As I sat on the park bench I marveled at the intensity of my struggles to master THE SLIDE. As a small boy it consumed me and I must admit a lot of my self-image at the time hinged on my success or failure at the various stages. I wished I could somehow go back in time and tell my ‘little boy self’ that he is something greater than his perceived successes and failures. To not waste life by judging his worth by whether he is keeping up with his peers or not.

Then it suddenly occurred to me that my struggles now were not so very different from what I was going through then. It also occurred to me that perhaps in another thirty-five years I would look back at my current struggles in the same light. My self-image is certainly being affected now by my current successes and failures. Perhaps, now too, I am something more.

I left the park much lighter in spirit and with a smile upon my face. Life is indeed a beautiful journey.

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