Consider the humble rubber band.

Lying around in a drawer, all relaxed and floppy, it’s useless.

On the other hand, its design is similarly defeated if stretched to the breaking point.

Somewhere in between these two extremes is a “creative tension” that allows a rubber band to fulfill the measure of its creation—which is to say, fulfill its role of helping keep things together.

One could learn a lot from a rubber band.

Don’t just lay around.

Embrace stretchiness.

But don’t get over-stretched.

Stay flexible.

In short, embrace “creative tension”—not too little, not too much—just the right amount for a contributive life, based on each one’s unique gifts and callings.

The Quaker author, Parker Palmer, refers to this as “living in the tragic gap,” neither giving in to corrosive despair, nor embracing irrelevant idealism.

I’ve modified Palmer’s counsel to urge “living in the tragic/comic gap,” because life isn’t just tragic. It’s often comic—even hilarious. A paradox.

In my younger days I imagined that after the years of career and family-rearing the tensions of life would retire, along with me. Silly boy. I see now that there is no tension-less life this side of the grave.

Meanwhile, “helping keep things together” seems like a worthy New Year’s resolution. Our “United States,” and our world, need each person’s resolve to honor our common humanity and to cherish the Good Earth that sustains us.

And maybe, just maybe, we could together learn from the humble rubber band something of what it means to experience life as “one eternal round?”