Tension as a Tool

This particular part of the story feels very long and drawn out to me. Stupidly, I’m just remembering that this period of time was long and drawn out! This process of moving to the US was tedious, gut wrenching in many ways, and just downright laborious. It was wrought with tension.

My husband was a Peace Corps Volunteer. At a close of service conference he attended after two years in Latvia, the volunteers were told to be prepared for culture shock when moving back home. They spewed off a statistic that said something like, for every six months you’ve spent in the field, expect it to take one month to readjust to life in America. For us at that point, this readjustment time amounted to about a year. At first I didn’t buy it—I’m not someone who lets a lot of grass grow under my feet (another gift from Winnie), but I had this terrible anxiety at my growing task list and growing “unknowns” list, and I was beginning to get the point. An inner tension prevailed and was getting stronger by the day.

The thing about tension is this: I think a little is a very good thing. Nothing worthwhile I’ve ever done seems to come without a dose of it, and I come to expect it—often even welcome it—when I work at something that’s important to me. It’s the thing that shows contrast. It’s the thing that makes the mundane or the tedium all of a sudden a bit more interesting. A little is a very good thing.

I liken it to putting a room together—there needs to be some tension as a stabilizer or a grounding. It actually makes a space feel more comfortable. Think of when you would visit your old Aunt Florence (I had two of them, I know…). You would likely enter her living room and be stared at by generations of photographs in glimmering silver frames sitting atop a round piece of glass which tacked down a piece of floral chintz. Then a petite settee in another fancy pattern of matching tones would beckon you to come keep the needlepoint pillow company. These are the same flavor as the curtains, as the lampshade, as the rug, as the Florentine foot on the sofa table, etc. There’s nothing wrong with this, the coordination evokes softness, peacefulness, bygone eras, and Aunt Florence’s folly, yet it’s UNCOMFORTABLE!

Enter blessed TENSION! Throw some BLACK mats under those silver picture frames! Replace the mauve throw draped over the chair with a vibrant PURPLE one! Toss the chintz doily and let the glass top rest DIRECTLY on the rich mahogany round side table. Break it up! Add some TENSION and suddenly, flowers and pastels are actually appealing. Everything is more interesting when given room to breathe.

I often find the same irritation when entering the ladies room in nice hotels and restaurants. The overworked décor is simply agitating. It’s all very pretty and serene, but I can’t hike up my tights fast enough to get out of there! It needs an infusion of the unexpected. Tension equals relief.

…Until there’s too much. Then there’s chaos.