Over the Hill on the Yellow Brick Road, a withering balloon floated by. It had a clueless expression on its face, so I figured it was new in the area, as I was. I started a conversation.
Hey balloon, what brings you “Over the Hill on the Yellow Brick Road?”
WITHERING BALLOON: I drifted here. I’m not sure how I got here, and I’m not sure where I’ll be going next.
You’re not alone. In a very broad sense, the same is true of my existence.
WITHERING BALLOON: Really?
Yes. How did you end up here?
WITHERING BALLOON: Well, I used to work in a Real Estate office. I had a string tied on me, and I was attached to an “Open House” sign. The house was finally sold, so my old, worn, tattered string unraveled and I floated off on my own. Now I’m here trying to figure out where I belong in the world.
WITHERING BALLOON: I have to say, I passed a lot of enchanting things on my way to this place. The world is absolutely incredible.
WITHERING BALLOON: I’ve had a great ride so far.
WITHERING BALLOON: I’d like to see more.
WITHERING BALLOON: I’d like to keep going and going and going.
So would I.
WITHERING BALLOON: But at any moment, I could pop. And that would be the end.
WITHERING BALLOON: I mean, I’ve made it this far in life, but how much longer can I possibly go on? At any moment, I could float into a sharp tree branch and burst. Or I could drift into a street lamp and I’d be gone in a flash. Or I could–
I see you’ve given this some thought.
WITHERING BALLOON: I can give you more examples.
No need. I think about it, too.
WITHERING BALLOON: So, what are we supposed to do about it?
Well, the way I see it is…there are two choices. We can continue to enjoy the beautiful ride and take in as much as we can. Or…we can obsess with when it will all be over.
WITHERING BALLOON: I wish I could just enjoy it. But anxiety runs in my family.
How do you find a balance?