I've had a friend for a very long time. In fact, back to my travel soccer days, my marching band days in high school, the days where we used to take our lunches to eat outside in eleventh and twelvth grade. We wrote poems together, stories of our travels and trips and since then we have remained friends. But hard to think that we have been apart 8 years ( in distance) and yet we still find time to text and call eachother at least once per week. And that my friends...is a true friend. 

Well this particular friend is quite a thinker, and she is constantly reflecting upon things she wishes she could do but has not yet. Or perhaps certain things she does not feel so very comfortable doing. But what I admire about her is that I tug her in one direction and she generally tugs me back in a different one. She is excellent at playing tug-of-war with the mind and so generally our conversation go something like this..

"Well you should just muster up the courage to do _______"

"I agree with you...but it's similar to when you say you will come to visit me and then time gets in the way and you cannot...."

And though this may seem critical or even somewhat obnoxious to most, I must say there is great whimsy in finding the people on this planet who are going to play tug-of-war with you. Tug-of-war with your heart and your mind and not necessarily leave hard callouses inside the psalms of your hand but rather leave small pockets of change or touch-point reminders that you should push yourself in a direction you choose or let someone pull you into another whimsical place.

I can think back to my second year of teacher, the students were frolicking in the grass during field day and our next rotation happened to be tug-of-war. The girls were short a player and so I stepped in. We slid right into eachother giggling and laughing pulling and pushing our bodies moving back and forth and side to side. And to think that both sides constantly ended up in a new place than where they started. Sometimes that place was on the ground, sometime near a bush, in the mud and sometimes that push and pull were so even that it just felt like you were floating above the grass.

There is whimsy in believing and knowing and understanding the beauty of the game of tug-of-war. Embracing those brush burns full-heartedly and realizing that not every tug-of-war game should be looked at as a struggle. Think of the giggled and the soft drops in the grass on a day where there is not one cloud in the sky. There is whimsy in the rope that can shift and mold and change your mind taking you towards the imagination and the whimsy. For love is not stagnant but constantly shifting.