The air is crisp, the leaves colorful. The wind picks up my curls and gently pushes me back and forth. I’m flying. When I reach the top, my heart lifts and then falls with the motion of the swing. I said that I would be back inside fifteen minutes ago, but I can’t convince my feet to drag across the ground and bring me to a stop. There are too many thoughts slow-dancing through my mind. In fact, everything is moving in slow motion and every part of me begs itself to let life stay this way, and so I don’t get off of the swing.

Maybe I’m just an old soul, but isn’t there something unique about swinging? Something that makes you feel so connected to everything around you? What is so secret and healing about a swing? Perhaps the gentle back and forth motion is like that of a mother rocking her child to sleep. Yes, it feels as though the world is holding you and you are safe. At the same time, a swing gives you the freedom to fly. It provides the epitome of an optimal life—safety and comfort with a sense of independence and adventure. Is it possible to take this playground satisfaction with you into your everyday life? The following is what I’ve learned from swinging in the backyard, on the playground, on the back porch, at camp into a lake, in the forest on an old vine, and on an old tire at the park:

1. Like swinging back and forth on a fall day, a life that meets a balance between rooted ideals and the freedom to spread your wings fulfills the heart. One of my favorite quotes is by Virginia Woolf, who said, “I am rooted, but I flow.” Being rooted means knowing what it is that you believe in and why. It also means standing behind your intentions. However, having the freedom to spread your wings means that it’s OK, even healthy, to periodically check your beliefs, reevaluate them, and grow from what you learn.
2. There is nothing scarier than taking a leap and nothing more gratifying than landing on your feet. Do you remember those kids in second grade who would do flips off the swing set and break their arms? I could never understand how they had so much courage in the first place. Hearing about their broken limbs from their fall-downs made me too terrified to ever try flipping from the swings. However, I never heard about all of the times that those same kids landed on their feet. Although I wasn’t a swing flipper, I did occasionally swing pretty high and jump off at just the right moment. Sometimes, I had too much momentum and fell down. Sometimes, though, I landed on my feet. Those times that I landed on my feet were the times that kept me leaping again and again (along with encouraging words from my friends).
3. Time with good friends is important. While swinging in solitude is a reflective and meaningful experience, reaching for the cotton candy clouds is more fun when you have someone to compare imaginary handfuls with. Swinging is a social sport. In elementary school, my best friend and I would always head straight toward the swings when we got out for recess. There, we would swing and talk about life until recess came to an end. We carried our love for swinging and conversation with us throughout middle and high school; enjoying many long talks inspired by the rhythm of our swings. Through our swing talks, we grew together in our ideas and beliefs about the world around us, allowing me to appreciate the true extent of our friendship.
4. Time with nature is important. Mom used to always tell us to go play outside. There was a swing set in the backyard: something tangible to do. Consequently, in my mind, swinging became the essence of “playing outside.” Swinging is a way to breathe in the grace of fresh air, to notice the patterns of the leaves, and to get lost in bird anthems. I can remember dozens of beautiful moments of gratitude for nature while swinging. I can also remember dozens of beautiful moments of feeling calm because I could see that the world outside was so much bigger than my problems and me--concentrated on my little swing. I’ve tucked these moments away and they make themselves remembered when I need to know that simply “being” in nature can cure many ill-feelings.
5. Simple things are good. We don’t need a lot to find joy. In fact, the most joyful things are really simple, like swinging under a magnolia tree on a hot day. Life can get really complicated really fast, but all it takes to correct one’s perspective is a simple reassurance--the simple reassurance of a rooted belief, a humble success, a good friend, a beautiful tree. All of this can be found on a swing, but it can also be sought out more directly and intentionally in times of trouble. Holding fast to what is simple and good is holding fast to what is important.

I try to touch the stars with my toes as I pump back and forth in darkness. I can hear the ocean’s roar to my right and my friend’s laughter to my left. In this moment, I am living in my best way. Before now, I forgot how to seek out this prime version of myself. I forgot that it even existed. Fortunately, I remembered how to get to the swing set.