Balance is a dynamic space

Eden is my almost two-year-old Libra. When she runs, her tummy leads, and her arms are out behind her. Kind of like a duck. But she's learning, and she's especially learning what balance means.

Balance is one of those images we use to describe mental tranquility. Some people push back because they prefer other metaphors. My therapist prefers harmony. She likes to “harmonize” the different parts of her life instead of “balancing” them. I get it, but I'm not here to champion one over the other. They're all metaphors, and each has its limitations. Find the one that fits you.

Photo by Aziz Acharki on Unsplash

I do, however, want to more closely examine the idea of balance because it's been around for a while and doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. We've probably all mentioned a time or two that we'd like to achieve a better work/life balance. The reason is simply that we know what off-balance feels like. We know what it's like to misstep, lose balance, and fall, and we'd like to avoid it if we can.

I wouldn't be saying anything new if I'd add, "Well, that's how we learn." Just like Eden. I mean, how many times has she gotten an "owie" on her knee? I wince when she runs. She runs in sandals, in flip-flops, in boots. She runs everywhere. But what she's learning is invaluable. She’s learning how to balance amid all that movement.

If we're not careful, though, we can miss something here: balance is a dynamic space, not a static one.

I think that understanding of balance—when applied as a metaphor to life—is also not achievable. Balancing our different responsibilities, desires, and relationships is a dynamic process.

Overlooking this fact can really misconstrue our notions of what mental tranquility looks like from a practical standpoint.  For too long, I tried maintaining a static peace of mind. I thought peace of mind should be inflexible, unmoved, constant. Before I knew it, I'd find myself overwhelmed with a mind that simply wouldn't stop solving a problem or thinking of all that I needed to do. So, I'd work longer, using up every moment of the day to check more items off the list while noticing that the list continued getting longer and longer. I “should-ed” all over myself. I could probably blame my doctoral work, which is really an endurance test more than anything else. Nobody gets every reading completely done all the time ever. Doctoral programs are designed to push people, so there's always more work than one human can get to. At least, that was my experience. 

I quickly learned constantly doing more, working more, trying harder was not sustainable. At some point, I had to realize that "good enough" really was good enough. Whatever definition of "perfect" I was aiming at wasn't achievable. 

I think that understanding of balance—as a perfect, static mental space—is also not achievable. Balancing our different responsibilities, desires, and relationships is a dynamic process.

Photo by Sincerely Media on Unsplash

Return to the image of walking. It struck me one day that walking is a process of managing movement. It's a dynamic space that creates forward motion. Think about someone's gait: that swaying back and forth that occurs with taking steps. Every step we take finds us swaying back and forth between two polar opposites to create the force that propels us forward. Balance, then, is really a spectrum whereby we move back and forth between two manageable extremes. Try stopping mid-ambulation on one foot to hold that position of balance, and you'll find yourself off balance, flailing about to keep from toppling over. Each step is a momentary state of balance that requires a second step to compensate, which then demands a third so forth. 

Progress, then, becomes a dynamic space with managed extremes of motion.  

The relationship of identifiable, interacting, personal limits as a form of achieving progress is changing my perspective on how I work. I've overworked myself because I didn't have the correct counter-step to keep me moving forward sustainably. Too much attention on one part of my work leaves me struggling on another part. Suddenly, life feels like Whack-A-Mole. 

Are you following me? 

Last week, I posted about the importance of exercise re-positioning my mind. I demonstrated that it provides a transitional moment for ending one task—work—and preparing for the next—parenting. It's a good example of what strategically managing a spectrum of balance looks like: a gentle sway from one productive effort to another. The key is knowing your limits, the point at which too far in one direction will throw you off. 

I've noticed several advantages of looking at balance dynamically. The first is that it builds variety into my day. I'm good at focusing my efforts on one task for two or even three hours uninterrupted if necessary, but then I've got to move on to something else to prevent stagnation, getting distracted, feeling overwhelmed or bored. The second is that changing tasks allows my subconscious to do what it does best: percolate, stew, organize information, etc. I'm less stressed when I'm allowed myself to step away from my work in order to improve my work. I don't completely understand it, but it's a process thing. The third advantage is that I'm just a much better version of myself when I've got mechanisms in place to pull me back from those limits I've pushed myself to. My work is more enjoyable, I'm more present, and the daily effort of showing up and putting in my best effort is more sustainable. That's what I appreciate most. 

Because I'm in it for the journey.