A Leg.

Sometimes, without realizing it, we find ourselves balancing on one leg. A fleeting moment of loss of balance, an instinctive reaction, an almost unconscious act. But once we are there—on that one leg—a choice opens up that extends beyond the now. For isn’t it true that the future is shaped by what we do in the present? And if that is so, wouldn’t it be better, for the sake of the future time, to stand on the other leg for a moment?

We often think of balance as something that has to be achieved in the moment, but perhaps balance is something that extends over a longer timeline. Perhaps it is not a state, but a movement. If we stand on only one leg and stay there, we create a history that is asymmetrical, a path that continues crookedly. But if we move to the other leg, we offer the future the possibility of repair, of compensation, of mutual recognition.

But what does this mean for the past? There remains uncertainty about this. Does history benefit from our restored balance, or is the past a rigid line that cannot be bent by our current movement? Perhaps the past is just a collection of moments that remain unmoved, while the present and the future are a dance in which we can choose.

And so we stand, one moment on one leg, the next on the other. Perhaps this small act contributes to a balance that affects not only our bodies but time itself. Perhaps this is how we create a gentler future—by simply recognizing that no moment can stand alone, just as no leg should carry alone.