Worthy of the swings (Erin Jean Warde)

At first I thought: What will people think? Then I thought: I hope they are invited into joy.

The other day I went on one of my walks, as I keep trying to do. There’s a rec center, baseball field, little park situation not far from my house. My route takes me down the main road, crossing over said major road, then down into the residential area across from my apartment complex. It’s catty-cornered, if you will. I walk for blocks, until I get to the rec center, baseball field, little park situation.

I’ve walked this way for months now, off and on, because once you get to the rec center, baseball field, little park situation, it feels an awful lot less like I’m smack dab in the middle of an ever-growing neighborhood in Nashville. The birds seem to feel a little more content, with the wooded areas that surround the situation, and I feel a little more content after being with them.

For months now, I’ve walked past the swingset. Now, something you need to know about me is that swinging has always been my favorite thing to do at a playground, since I was first introduced to a playground. There’s something about the feeling of flying, back and forth, but within the safety of seat and chains, that speaks directly to this enneagram 6 heart. (You can tell I’m an enneagram 6 because I will pump my arms and soar high, but only jump when I’ve slowed to a safe pace for jumping, lol.)

Multiple times I’ve thought of hopping on the swings, but didn’t. I don’t know why. It was as if I was busy, as if that wasn’t the mission and vision of my morning walk.  But, the more I delve into it, I wonder if there was a feeling of: Adults don’t do this. Adults walk, adults exercise, adults stick to the path.

But when have I stuck to a path?

For some reason this week, I decided to swing. First, I was actually really nervous, which makes me laugh now, in retrospect. I was worried the swing couldn’t hold me, but hold me it did.  I soared; I pumped with my arms.

I did all the moves kids do, too. I bent backward to see the view from upside down. I let my body go stiff and rocked forward and backward like a plank. I pumped with gusto, genuinely trying to go higher.

As I was swinging, multiple people walked by.  The first time someone walked by, I stopped pumping. I kind of balked, wondering: What do I do? I felt, upon seeing the first person, like I was… caught?

But I paused, took a deep breath, and went back to soaring.

At first I thought: What will people think?

Then I thought: I hope they are invited into joy.

I’ve been trying really hard to let myself feel some childlike joy, to rekindle it, to remind myself I’m worthy of joy, no matter my age.

This week, it was swings. I hope it might be swings again, and I can’t wait to see what it becomes.

I hope you, too, are invited into some joy that makes you think less about what people think, and makes you think more about how you’re worthy to receive it.

Love y’all,

EJW