Bridges of suspension
There’s something about the thought of crossing a suspension bridge* that is quite magical – and also potentially quite scary. Wow, I’m suspended over this river or harbour or stretch of land! Ach, will this really hold me up or will it (and I) collapse?
Yet I realise we are crossing these [metaphorical] bridges every day – even every moment. Between each word you read here there is a ‘gap’, a kind of suspension of the visual that bridges one combination of letters that reflect an image to another. Between each thought, a micro-pause if we pay attention as the mind connects to something related near or far, explicit or implicit. Between each inhale and exhale another kind of gap, filled with a moment of stillness of breath but also possibly action of thought and feeling. We are in fact masters of crossing these bridges, regularly making transitions and changes without wonder or fear.
Remembering that I am familiar with the process of navigating bridges of change helps me to relax a little bit more into not knowing what’s on the other side. And I might even be able to look around me with a bit more curiosity or even wonder. That where I come from will connect to where I am going – in unexpected or perhaps familiar ways, through this precious body, mind or heart.
I wonder what the next crossing will be like?
With a bow
Maitripushpa
*like the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco or Clifton Bridge in Bristol
