The Third Rail

 

I understand the third rail holds all the power.  Avoiding it should be a high priority on everyone’s list.  I thought about this as I was waking up this morning and saw my cane leaning against the wall.  That, for the most part, is my third rail.  Should any event happen involving that cane, my power goes away.  My life jumps the tracks.

Some philosophies suggest a balance in all things.  That odd, shaped rail is my balance.  It controls the horizontal, the vertical and adjusts the wobble in either direction.  It is the stabilizer that keeps me on course.  No GPS required.  I can travel in any direction as long as the wobble is held in check.

It’s a stick, people.  A simple stick controls this complex human being.  A piece of wood.  It is the book of matches under the short table leg, keeping the red wine from spilling onto the white tablecloth.  Both the cane and the matches are blended into the definition of precarious.   To me, that is as far from balance as you can get.  It will always be the unseen tension, the barely noticeable static in the background, best said by the Beatles, “Living is easy with eyes closed.”