Cartwheeling Down the Hall

Although I don’t do so often, I can still knock out a proper cartwheel.

Since it’s a “wheel”, you only need a lot of space moving forward, not width-wise, so presumably, it should be possible to cartwheel down a hallway. After all, gymnasts manage this on a balance bean only a few inches wide.

But that’s not what happens to me. Even when there’s physically an ample amount of space for gymnastic endeavors, psychologically there is a perceived narrowness.

That lack of space exists only inside my head, but it’s powerful enough to hinder even an attempt at a cartwheel in our apartment.

I imagine limbs thwacking against walls coupled with lots of pain and regret.

This post, of course, is not about cartwheels. It’s that I often approach life events in a similar way. There is a narrowness of view and fear of pain, and these limitations take up real estate inside my head. While in reality, there’s enough space for emotions to express themselves and enough time to work out any arisen problems, those imagined walls confine my actions.

Were I to close my eyes and trust my abilities, cartwheeling through the little hallway from my galley kitchen to our dining area would be no big deal.

But faith in myself has been eroded away and my sight is influenced by not only things that came before but also the discomfort of what may come in the future.

Breaking through these barriers takes work, and while I’m up for it, it is a process. The trick, of course, is to generate enough confidence to cartwheel down that hallway while I still remember how.