Calibrating the Balance

I set my boots on an oil-stained work table where a thick strip of discarded industrial conveyor rubber lay coiled. Morning in this compound offers clean silence, so I decided on maintenance rather than tempo. Standing upright on the rubber’s narrow, ridged edge, I elevated onto the balls of my feet to test friction. When the material shifted under my weight, I engaged my core, locking my shoulders into neutral alignment. To counterbalance the sway, I reached down and picked up a rusted steel hexagonal bolt, transferring its cold density from my left hand to my right. Every joint steadied. A true artist must master equilibrium on unstable ground before claiming the floor.