I was looking for an image of a seesaw the other day to use in a slideshow about meditation. I ended up finding one on a free stock photo site that worked well for the idea I wanted to convey, but not before I recalled this picture that was taken more than forty years ago. In a very small world of perhaps three to five people, it’s iconic. I couldn’t imagine where my copy might be, so I texted my friend Doodles to see if she had “the seesaw picture” handy; she texted her daughter, the baby in the swing in the foreground. It took a few days, but the image was excavated and texted to me. Ah, technology!

None of us had recalled the baby in the swing. At the time it was taken, we had all marveled at the perfect balance Jerry and I had achieved on the seesaw. That had taken some time, and we sat there for quite awhile; long enough, maybe, for Doodles to run back upstairs to the apartment to get her camera. I’m fascinated looking at it now for so many reasons. And so grateful. Grateful for the friendships that it represents that have lasted lifetimes, grateful for the halcyon days it recalls of youth and optimism; grateful for the technology of the time that captured it on film, and the tech of today that enabled it to reach me in minutes after it was found. I’m grateful for joy it brought to the young adults in that moment, the spirit of play and perseverance, and for the symbol it became through the years of that perfect moment on the playground. How young we were! How red my hair was! I’m grateful that we are all four still alive!

And I’m fascinated by the trick of memory that none of us recalled the baby in the swing, but only the marvel of the balancing act. I’m fascinated to see Jerry’s perfect yogic posture and my even then asymmetry. Ever since the aches and pains of aging have made me aware of the imbalance of my skeletal structure, I guess I’ve imagined that at some point I might have had better alignment. But even then the stiff right hip couldn’t release the leg, even then the spine had no lumbar curve. I’m grateful for the compassionate perspective this realization gives on my past, present, and future.

Meanwhile, in the garden, there is another sort of balance: that sweet spot of spring when it’s still cold at night and flowers are blooming. Yesterday it snowed off and on; this morning I enjoyed a rare chorus of redwing blackbirds.

Apricot and forsythia are in bloom even as the wood rack is still stacked full. I planted three columbines in these cages this morning and deep-watered the tree.

More tulips are opening in my own private Netherlands bed, and the bright morning face of this yellow tulip hides behind blushing petals at sundown.

I continue to navigate balance between joy and grief, my small sanctuary and planetary chaos, and find myself grateful every day for the calming influence of mindfulness practice. The gift of equanimity is indeed immeasurable.