This Much I Know Is True: Part II

Here is yet another idea to add to my list of lessons learned during this last spin around the sun- something else I absolutely positively know to be true….

4. Balance is overrated.

For years, I have beaten myself up for not ever being able to achieve that elusive balance between work and play, between self and others, between spending and saving, between routine and spontaneity. I always seem to be bouncing somewhere away from the mid-line. Don’t you worry- I am not a completely insane roller coaster of outrageous and dangerous mood swings (At least I don’t think so! Though please tell me if you think otherwise- just maybe make sure I am not holding a knife at the time), but I do have a tendency towards “all or nothing” and towards big emotions. I get full-on giggly about a beautiful sunset, I would be tempted to instagram my joyous discovery of the inside of a perfectly ripe avocado, and a busted stapler could quite possibly throw me into a brief yet curse-laden rage. I also often work too much, sometimes drink too much (though always unintentionally and with great surprise at the end result), I pile too much onto my plate (both literally and figuratively), I sleep too little, exercise too little, and I am just very rarely right on the middle line with anything. I mean, look at the freaking adjectives I use. There’s just no such thing as meh or fine or good in my vocabulary; adore or despise, amazing or horrible- it’s almost always extreme and either/or, never in the middle. For a while, I tossed around this idea that imbalance is actually what brings about change and acts as a driving force in life; so my “bounciness”, so to speak, is actually a step towards making positive change in my life and in this great big world around me, an idea I sometimes kinda sorta believe, but the problem is that it still focuses on this idea of there being some kind of centre- either the before one or the after one- that I need to continually strive towards. I should probably also say before I dive into this great big contemplation on the value of becoming a more “balanced” me, that there is also the alternative of just not thinking about all this stuff and just being, but I think for folk like me- all big and bouncy and sensitive- we can’t help but get a bit reflective about all this stuff, if only to make sure we are not completely insane and are still safe within the “normal” zone.

Something struck me recently while teaching a class about systems theory. I was explaining to students that we often talk about these two different kinds of equilibrium. The first is static equilibrium, which is like a pile of books that remain in the same state until, let’s say, some gust of wind topples them over, and then you have to stack them all up again and create a new equilibrium, which will also pretty much remain unchanged unless acted on again by an outside force. I think for a long time, this was my idea of what balance meant, which I realize is inaccurate. I didn’t recognize the dynamic nature of maintaining equilibrium, perhaps because I didn’t feel like I knew what equilibrium or balance actually felt like.

Then there’s steady-state equilibrium, this idea that, within a system, there can be all sorts of fluctuations in response to the world around it, and these are reactions to varying levels of input or disturbances outside, and each reaction depends on the sensitivity of the system itself, but in spite of all these fluctuations, the system will always return to a functional equilibrium. Body temperature is an example of this. We don’t freak out if we measure our temperature and it is not exactly 37 degrees. We understand that there is a whole range of “normal” and that our body is such a beautifully evolved system that it generally, in most cases, sorts itself out. We shiver if we’re too cold to warm ourselves up; we sweat to cool ourselves down. There might even be long-term changes in a system that could alter the equilibrium completely yet still respect the integrity of the system. A forest growing back after a fire is a great example of this. It’s still the same forest, in spite of a massive disturbance, and even though what grows there, and how it grows, might shift, the forest will still be the same forest.

Even still, while I like this idea of a steady-state equilibrium a teensy weensy bit more than my previous understanding of balance, and I like how easily these ideas can be applied to the system of the human psyche, these words like “steady” and “balance” make me a bit nervous. I’ve become almost allergic to them, partially because I know the typical idea of breath-in, breathe-out, mindful, reflective, come back to centre balance is simply something I don’t feel I can attain, and also because I don’t really know if I want to. I know that if I am to respect the integrity of who I am as a person, I need to be okay with my high highs and my low lows and my swirly, twirly bits in the middle. My excitement about the little things in life that others might overlook, and my sensitive soul that makes me snot and sob all over myself when watching Marley and Me or listening to Hallelujah, these responses to everyday events that might seem irrational or unnecessarily “unbalanced” or over the top, are part of my integrity as a person; and the people around me who know me well know that what might seem to outsiders like unpredictable or inexplicable behaviour actually really fits the system of me.

The truth, though, is that I’ve kind of completely rejected the idea of balance altogether as something to strive for. Maybe I misunderstand this concept. I have this idea that balance has something to do with a sensation of calm, of inner peace; and peace is just not me. In spite of my best efforts, I am restless, hyper-active, busy pretty much all the time, even when I am completely alone and obligation-free in the middle of the jungle, and if I use this idea of balance and peace as my measuring stick of whether or not I’m doing okay, then I will absolutely always fall short. And that, first of all, doesn’t feel too particularly good, and secondly, is just not realistic, because if I look at my life, I am actually doing pretty okay. Life is good, even if, by definition, it sometimes seems a bit “unbalanced”.

If I think back to times when I was a complete mess, when there was definitely something in the system of me that needed to be tweaked in order to bring things back to fully functioning capacity, my barometer isn’t really balance. It’s joy.

Some might say happiness is a superficial concept, and not a sufficient means of measuring if things are as they should be in my life. I think my evangelical upbringing might argue that happiness is kind of selfish, and that righteousness might be a better measuring stick. Perhaps, others might argue that happiness is temporary and relative and unreliable. But here’s my argument: If there is one thing that I think defines me as an individual, it is my capacity for joy, for seeing the light in the darkness, and recognizing the good- this is the core of the integrity of my system, so to speak. So, when I find myself in a space when I feel a sustained unhappiness, when I lose that capacity, when I begin to feel resentful and negative, then I know that it is time for a change. Sometimes, that change might have to do with reflecting on something inside of me, shifting my approach to life, and sometimes that change might mean altering my circumstances. Sometimes- actually, often- it’s simply about self-acceptance and understanding.

A few years back, when I was at my messiest, my sister used this beautiful analogy to describe my situation. She told me that I was a strong flower capable of growing deep roots and reaching high but that I had spent so long in conditions that didn’t allow me to grow. I was in bad soil in a dark room without enough nurturing. She had said, “If we get you out of that bad soil, bring you into the light, and give you a little love, you’ll be just fine.” (I’m probably making her wise analogy a little prettier and more poetic but I just can’t help myself.) So, it seems that only in these last few years, out of the bad soil and into the light, I’ve been able to get a better sense of who I actually am and how I function in good soil. And what I’ve discovered is that, oddly enough, simply understanding when I seem to feel my highest highs and my lowest lows, as well as what triggers the occasional spikes of unsustainable work habits and sleeplessness, and then respecting the role of all these elements in developing my capacity for empathy and creativity and growth, has been very significant. Also, recognizing that there are limits in the process of self-actualization is freaking huge! What’s that they say? A leopard can’t change its spots? I have to accept that I am always going to be a bit bouncy, and that my bounciness is okay, and that understanding it and accepting it and sometimes even anticipating it can keep me in my own self-defined “normal” zone, and can prevent me from wasting so much energy trying to be something I am not or, even worse, wasting energy getting mad at myself for not being able to become something I am not. After all, trying to change your spots into stripes is not only impossible, it also just makes you feel so damn inadequate and miserable, not to mention tired.

So, back to my barometer. Balance has its value; otherwise we wouldn’t talk about it so much. But the idea of balance that I have come to understand simply doesn’t work for me. And I admit that happiness perhaps in and of itself isn’t enough. So here’s what I am striving for: harmony- the beautiful blending of these two concepts. I love the dictionary definitions for harmony: “a pleasing arrangement of parts” and “the state of being in agreement.” Harmony is fluid, flexible, dynamic, and it integrates this idea of the importance of things not only aligning and balancing but doiing so pleasingly. It hints at joy. It’s about shifting the proportions of the different aspects of my life in such a way that they fit and function and please. This means that sometimes there will be bouts of excessive work and not enough exercise, and sometimes there will be too much socializing and not enough meditating, but that if it all fits together reasonably congruously, and the whole system is functioning and maintaining its integrity in spite of continual fluctuations in its complex parts, and the result is a relatively pleasing arrangement, then- it turns out- I am doing ay-okay.