april is for alignment

thoughts from a tired pinball wizard

I’m like a pinball — bursting forth, colliding with my target.

Obsessive.

Governed not by gravity, but roaring terrors of persistence.

Furious rebirth with each clangorous ring.

I am poised chaos rewarded with moments of glory.

But anyone who’s ever played the game knows, it takes just as much skill as dumb luck.

Four Pinball Machines, Wayne Thiebaud, Oil on Canvas, 1962.

Last week my friend said “We accelerate without notice or second thought. We ask questions and field regrets later.” I laughed. It’s true. Intense drive and vigor fuel us. I’m sure that’s what first sparked our connection. It’s heaven to free glide with another person. To say “yes, and.”

I crave the feeling of launching from the plunger and propelling forward. Of euphoria igniting in my core and spreading through every nook and cranny. Of impact, with each collision generating a new vector, a fresh redirection of purpose.

Pinballs don’t hesitate or yield, they fearlessly hurl themselves against any barrier with the full brunt of their energy. And I like embodying this ethos — aggressively pursuing my objectives and refusing to be deterred by resistance. I like this pulsing energy. It feels like power.

But…

Pinballs are scattered and indiscriminate too. They run themselves ragged. Their trajectories, while powerful, often lack precision and discipline. And such disordered momentum can lead me astray.

Maybe I’m a little astray now, and that’s why I’ve been asking myself the big questions — What do I lose through my fractured attention and frenetic movements? Can I claim to live intentionally when I exist in a reactionary state? — The answers: a lot and no.

I’m craving a life beyond raw force. I feel my soul reaching out for cohesion, for harmony of movement. Because when the game ends, so does the thrill. And the embarrassment and shame of moving too fast and doing too much hurts. “People must think I’m crazy.” So, I hide, locking myself away — immobilized by the failure — until the passion strikes again.

Rinse. Repeat.

I need change. And I think what I’m longing for is alignment. To be wholly congruent in mind, body, and spirit. For my actions to better match my hopes.

I don’t know how to get there, but I’m pretty sure how to start…but I can’t begin if my egotistical false self is sitting in the driver’s seat. [Shoves her to the side]. “Goodbye for now you intoxicating creature, I’ll deal with you later.”

Maybe the quest for alignment begins by quieting the endless chatter of the mind — the rolling barrage of clinking metal — and opening myself up to the natural rhythms around me. Then, I can tune my awareness to the steady thrum of my heartbeat, the gentle ebb of my breathing, and the cyclical turn of the seasons — Earth’s and mine. And by consistently surrendering to these primordial cadences instead of constantly pushing and pushing and pushing, I think I’ll discover the unity woven through all existence.

And maybe I’ll learn that I don’t have to force my way upstream because there’s a current carrying me exactly where I need to go. If only I let myself be buoyed. The salmon and my callings are different and I’m the lucky one. There are no rules for me. A freshwater ecosystem isn’t depending on me to get this whole mess right every time, so I can release the flawed narrative that I must ceaselessly strive and struggle against the flow. No, I can just flow. I can follow the organic unfolding of life, neither shooting ahead nor dragging behind. For when I move in this resonance, each inhale and exhale, each rise and fall synchs with the larger respiration of the cosmos.

And maybe I’ll finally see that I am not a suffering soloist, but instead a contributor to a masterpiece beyond my singular perspective. That I am simultaneously distinct and indivisible from the symphony that is all around and within me in every moment.

Maybe this is alignment. And if I find a way to blend this with my feisty, pinballing side, maybe that will be alignment for me — a place where verve and elegance collide — sculpted with purpose.

It’ll be the melding of intensity, intent, ambition, and direction — a measured confluence.

Yes, that sounds like the perfect recipe.

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