I recently went ice skating.
My feet still hurt, and there’s this black welt/gash/thing penetrating my ankle from the skate. I hope it doesn’t turn purple.
I’d been ice skating approximately twice before, the last time occurring during my senior trip seven years ago in Central Park.
To say I was “rusty” wouldn’t even scratch the surface of my skating skillz. The rust I had going on was the nasty multi-layer build-up you see on those CLR commercials.
I only fell on my hands once, though I did desperately grab onto my brother and sister once each while spinning in dire circles. But by the end of my exhausting hour on ice, I realized that the ice skating rink is quite the metaphor for the walk of life.
The same types of people on the rink exist beyond the rink too.
The parent helping the child.
The parent not helping the child.
The child succeeding.
The child falling.
Children helping other children along the walls.
Not-quite-children-anymore linking arms away from the walls.
The lovey-dovey couple holding hands.
The poser cutting everyone off while spinning and jumping and performing that showoffish slide-to-a-stop thing that sprays ice shards against the wall.
And the rusty nail who still has no idea what he’s doing after 24 years.
Ah, life. You can either go it alone or hold hands with someone who will help you along.
They won’t hold you the whole time though. At least they shouldn’t. Not if they truly love you. If they really love you, they’ll let go at some point, letting you brave the (frozen) waters for yourself.
I mean, you don’t see Daddy still holding Junior’s bike 24 years later.
Sooner or later, you gotta let Junior go. Let him fly, let him sail. Doesn’t mean he’s gone forever — just that he needs to feel that triumphant feeling of conquering the ice himself, and if he’s so fortunate, that even more triumphant feeling of being able to help others conquer the ice too.
Yes, I paid $10 to look like a fool in front of countless skating experts, many of whom were precious little Asian girls not taller than my kneecaps.
But as I often leaned against the wall to catch my breath and bearings, I marveled at the scene before me: people skating in the same basic circular direction, and yet going a million different speeds, some desperately perched against the wall and others free amid open ice.
We’re all going the same basic direction in life. Just at different speeds. And who knows how much longer we’ve got until the dreaded Zamboni clears us from the ice.
Who will you lock arms with on your journey?
Who will you let go along the way?
Who will you hold onto?
Who will you let fall?
Who will you pick up?
How will you make a difference today?
You know, just some of what I was thinking about as little Kristi Yamaguchi lapped me yet again.
Tom, you always draw such a vivid picture with your words for others to feel exactly what you are feeling. I’m all about some life-analogies, and I love that about your writings as well. This particular life-analogy brought forth in your ponderings about your ice skating experience is definitely one to leave you (well, me and your other readers lol) thinking for sure. By far one of my favorite analogies from your perspective/blogs! Thanks for continuing to share your heart, thoughts, and life questions with the rest of us!
~Jenn
Thanks Jenn! I was pretty exhausted after walking around the city all day, but I’m glad I still went ice skating afterward to snag these insights. Hooray life experiences.