Grounding the Line

A thick, woven canvas cord from the floor lamp had bowed upward off the boards, creating an uneasy arch. I stepped over the dark wood and planted my bare feet firmly on either side of the stiff cable. Lowering my hips into a deep, centered stance, I laid both open hands across the heavy textile weave. It carried a faint, warm vibration through the fibers. I shifted my weight forward through my palms, applying steady, deliberate downward pressure until the stubborn curve surrendered to the flat oak. Once leveled, the line held silent and still beneath my grip.