Handling life calls for agility

The other day, while walking down a hill, I came upon a man and his son enjoying the morning, as they passed a well-worn soccer ball back and forth on the street.

They each greeted me with a cheerful “good morning!” as the father, standing on the downhill slope, gave a firm kick up toward the boy, who looked to be about seven or eight. Obviously the lad had been given the easier end of the deal, since a missed ball on the downhill side of that steep incline could lead to quite a chase for his shorter legs.

I’m not an athlete or an avid sports fan but in that moment, I found myself reminiscing about my own experiences playing on equally angular terrain as a child, only without the benefit of asphalt. Living on a hill in a high mountain desert of New Mexico, baseball was the sport, soccer not being on the radar in those days. We played untethered from adults in this rural environment. There was no handicap for size and gender. I was always the smallest no matter what age, and at times the only girl. When we played baseball, I took my turn along with the rest on the downhill slope. That was the catcher’s position.

When you’re squatting behind someone who, depending on age and ability, might just as easily crack the ball uphill for a home run as miss the darn thing altogether, agility helps.

Humorously, I think of the movie Bull Durham, where one character said, “This is a simple game. You throw the ball, you catch the ball, you hit the ball.” On our hillside field, we would have added, “and you chase the ball, and then you chase the ball some more and some more after that!” Without the capacity to move quickly in any direction, or in our case, sliding over rocks and desert grass, that ball could be long gone down that hardscrabble hill.

This month’s column is as much about baseball as Bull Durham was. You know what I mean: In life, whether we’re a child playing a game, or an adult juggling the needs of a household, a partner, aging parents and a job as well, we all want to be agile and catch whatever ball gets thrown our way. And we want to be joined by others in the process.

In my office, I doubt that I’ve ever seen a client who doesn’t seek, more than anything, these two paradoxical goals. To feel supported by others while also experiencing our own sense of self-direction.

Sadly, I see too many people caught in a trap between these two desires. Trying to figure things out on their own, they say, “I don’t want to bother anyone,” or “No one will understand anyway,” or “I’m too embarrassed to talk about it.” Then when they do seek support they feel ashamed for needing help. Does this sound familiar?

Yet imagine that boy or his sister, the ball, playing on less than ideal terrain. Imagine any kid without someone else to exchange that ball with. They could do it human beings are, after all, imaginative creatures. The learning that happens, though, in the company of others, is invaluable. That morning, I could see from the bright smile on their faces, as the dad sent the ball in his son’s direction, the pleasure they got from being joined, being witnessed by each other.

Agility is a dance, a continuum from being autonomous in handling what life gives us, to allowing ourselves to be received and supported by others.

How has support has gotten you through rough terrain? Are you keeping yourself from receiving the support you deserve?

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Originally published in Lafayette Today (December, 2011)