Why Must the Pendulum Swing?

I'm not sure I'll ever get used to the fact that for every up, there must be a down. For every excitement, a letdown. For every joy, a sadness. For every exit, something new enters.

I guess this circles back to riding the wave. Learning to embrace the unknown takes a lot of letting go. I'm not sure that's a strength of mine. I've always wanted to maintain a certain degree of control—always been solution-driven—sometimes driving myself mad trying to find answers. But sometimes...there is no answer. Only the inevitable swing.

I suppose living in a perpetual state of joy would feel odd after a while. Without sadness, loss, frustration, or failure—we’d have no measurement for the light. You know those people who are always smiling, always checking in on you? It's lovely—but I know they, too, carry sorrow beneath the surface. They, too, must endure the swing. If not expressed or shared, it bottles up...until one day, it explodes. Because that's the reality: everything must swing.

I've been thinking about resilience a lot lately. About how I can strengthen my mind, my emotions, and my body—not if—but when the next swing comes. So that when the tide shifts again, and another storm demands my attention, I’ll be ready. Like a ninja in training. Steady. Calm in the eye of the storm. Ready to respond instead of react.

Man, have I had some storms.

Sometimes I wonder if the universe puts them directly in my path—or if it’s just random. I remember once, a neighbor knocked on my door, petrified. Her husband was acting strange—cutting himself, saying things that didn’t make sense. I ended up in the driveway, on the phone with mental health police, trying to talk him down while she fled with their baby in the car. He ran after her, pulling their six-month-old out of the car seat. I tried reasoning with him, but his mind wasn’t operating normally. At one point, he looked at me and said, “Why am I even talking to you?” I just laughed under my breath and thought, Good question, man. Universe put me here for some reason.

And that wasn’t the only time. Another neighbor. Another crisis. Schizophrenia. Again, they came to my door for help. Again, I had to remember: ask for mental health-trained officers, not just the regular police.

Maybe the universe has been training me for this my whole life. Certainly not by choice.

Where’s the line between letting go of control...and stepping in when needed? It's so blurry when it's family—or even strangers sometimes. When to surrender, and when to act?

I remember going to New York City alone in my early 20s, just getting started in jewelry. One night I met a man from the New York Fire Department—at a bar, of all places. He offered to buy me dinner, just to talk. He mostly told stories about a woman he loved who didn’t love him back—and about delivering checks to families after 9/11. Turns out, he wasn’t just any firefighter. He was the Commissioner of the whole damn Fire Department. Later, I somehow ended up getting him stoned and letting him crash on my Airbnb couch. Weird shit, right?

I asked my sister-in-law Kathy once, “Is this normal? Does stuff like this happen to everyone?” She answered without hesitation: “No, Courtney. You get more than most.”

Maybe these strange, messy, beautiful events are opportunities. To become a better leader. A better strategist. A better friend. A better coach. A better person of service.

But some days? I just want to chill by the water and not wonder what's going to happen next—or whether I’ll have the capacity to step in.

The swing will come. It always does. The best thing we can do is strengthen ourselves for it. Watch out for the things that weaken us. Chase the joy when it’s here. Enjoy the cool breeze on your skin—because the heatwave will come next. And after that...the cool again.

Back and forth. The rhythm of being human on planet Earth.

I suppose.