“Look at all your plants!” my guest said. 
“They’re so healthy.” 

Before I could stop myself, 
I recounted the story
of my rare cactus who died
because I misunderstood her. 

Later, as I walked to church, I noticed how 
I’m quick to balance everyone’s perception of me. 
As if it were a teeter-totter, 
I run from one end to the other to keep it perfectly horizontal. 
Compliment me, and I have to confess a fault.
Comfort me, and I minimize my misery. 

What if I simply received recognition for nurturing beauty 
and acknowledged my sorrow and the weight of it, 
as is, 
without comment 
except, perhaps, a
“Thank You”? 

I walked on, beside my friends– 
the budding trees, the trampled grass– 
annoyed at my propensity for balance 
until
I
sank
deeper. 

I didn’t want balance. 
I wanted room– 
plenty of space 
for beauty and sorrow to co-exist. 

I looked, and I saw, 
around me and within, 
a thriving ecosystem 
of health and decay, 
hope and despair, 
not taking turns being up or down, 
not needing to be balanced, 
but with room for each  
to be
whatever they are
at the same time. 

And wouldn’t you know it? 
A few minutes later, 
a random act of beauty 
ignited a memory, 
tenderness, tears. 

I let grief come, 
felt it prick my heart 
as I walked home. 

I knew then, 
life wasn’t waiting for me to get over this. 
Grief, or should I say love, 
is a perennial.

Take a long loving look at the real.
– Walter Burghardt, SJ

Credits and References:
Old Teeter Totter by Peggy Riley. Used with permission.
Room to Be by Esther Hizsa, 2026
Ecosystem by Scott McCracken. Used with permission.

© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2026.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2026.  http://www.estherhizsa.com