The Time I Rode My Bike Into A Tree
The Time I Rode My Bike Into A Tree
Finding Balance
The Story
I don’t remember this, of course, but I apparently fell down the basement steps when I was a baby. As a little kid, I tripped over my own feet constantly. I have a scar on my knee from falling over a tree root at a birthday party.
When I was in fifth grade, we went on a field trip to an adventure park, and our very first activity was open-air rock-climbing on a wall. The wall was probably two stories high, but to me, it was a skyscraper. I did NOT want to go. I knew I would fall, harness or no harness. But it was a class trip, and therefore everyone *had* to do it, so my teachers forced me. I got about ten feet in the air, freaked out, and fell.
A year or so later, my dad was trying to teach me to ride a bike. (I was on the old side to learn, because I’d been too scared to do it earlier. Which was perhaps wise?) I started going too fast, lost control, and hit a tree.
In summary, my early klutziness and discomfort with my own body taught me that balance is impossible.
Despite its impossibility— or maybe because of it— I think about balance a lot. I don’t believe in restricting my or my kids’ access to things like sugar or screens, because restriction + human nature leads to a binge and purge cycle (true in social experiments; also true for me personally). But I do believe in boundaries that promote balance.
You want a cookie for snack? Sure, but let’s add this apple for more vitamins.
You want screen time? Yes, let’s make it a predictable part of your week, so that you know when you’ll have it again, but let’s not do it in the morning or more than an hour at a time.
Balance.
I have this kind of conversation a lot with other busy adults in midlife. How do we make room for everything without falling over? Without regard to the polarization of our politics, it still feels as if most of us are trying to find some semblance of the center.
And yet, despite so many of us seeking that mythic balance, despite all the daily adjustments we make in the name of equilibrium, it still feels— like climbing that wall, like riding that bike— impossible to actually achieve. This is a two-part problem. First, we can’t define it. What does balance look like? It’s different for everyone. It’s not like kindness, gratitude or anger— things we collectively know when we see or feel it. Second, we can’t control it. There are too many outside forces competing for our time, attention, and values. In fact, some would argue that we should actively eschew the very idea of balance, since it promotes a locus of control that we don’t have, creating stress in place of acceptance.
I did eventually learn to walk without falling, then run. I got braver about heights. I now enjoy riding a bike, even though I constantly marvel at the fact that I don’t fall off. (Isn’t it kind of miraculous?) My core has been strengthened through countless calisthenics and exercises, and I now know that I can rely on it.
So maybe true balance isn’t possible. But relying on past learning, accumulated strength, and personal resilience can make it relatively achievable. You’ll still wobble. You’ll also have faith that you can find the center again… or at least, something that feels like it.
The Character Trait
Balance is the pursuit of harmony among all the facets of your life, an allocation of time and energy to each according to your values. The goal of living a balanced life is achieving overall well-being and satisfaction with the way you spend your time.
Balance may be aspirational, but striving for it improves your quality of life.
Let’s Do Some Stuff Together
For this week, take one of these balance-focused approaches to your life:
Make a pie chart of how you spend your time in the day. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but you could start by tracking your time for just one day so you have a good idea of how your time typically breaks down— or you could you do one week day, one weekend day. Laura Vanderkam has some excellent resources for this.
Create a system, like my “Rainbow” goals, where you put thought into what you want in all areas of your life. Using the Rainbow has helped me achieve a sense of balance (most of the time). Here are my seven color categories:
Red: Love/Family
Orange: Creativity/Writing
Yellow: Self/Health
Green: Personal Growth
Blue: Teaching
Purple: Home/Finances
Pink: Friends/Fun
Putting work in its place— just two out of the seven colors— makes it easier to prioritize other things. We all know that work can define your life. We also know that we’re happier when our identity and values don’t link to our work, or at least not solely to our work.
Want more?
If you’re a parent or teacher, don’t lead with “no.” Start with the balance of “yes, and,” as though you’re an improv performer. Yes, we can do this and here’s the boundary; or Yes you can have that, and here’s something else you can have that will balance it out.
If you’re a writer/creator, take time to reassess your time allocation and whether it prioritizes you as a creative being. Are you getting enough sleep? Do you have unstructured, disconnected time to let your mind wander? How do you balance these elements with the need to sit down and do the work?
How did this work for you? Leave a comment below, and you might be featured in next week’s newsletter!
Last Week’s Leftovers
Last week’s post was on Winnie the Pooh and how the solution to his problem was Patience. I suggested taking a task that seems urgent and giving it some space to breathe. This is, frankly, not my usual modus operandi. I often do things way before they’re due, just to satisfy my peace of mind. But I did find an opportunity to practice patience when I was deeply frustrated by a situation at work. Instead of firing off an email right away, I took a day. I let the feelings go. And I discovered that I didn’t need to respond at all. Sometimes a situation doesn’t need you to weigh in!
Stuff You Might Like To Know
Some of you expressed curiosity about my “song a day” playlist for 2024. Every day this year, I’m adding a song to my list. Sometimes the song has to do with the day itself (I added “It’s Raining Men” on a day that it poured) and others are just songs I encounter, or ones that get stuck in my head. Here are a few selections from this week:
“Good Riddance”— Green Day
“Jenny from the Block”— J.Lo
“25 or 6 to 4”— Chicago
“Under Pressure”— Queen
“Not My Fault”— Renee Rapp, Mean Girls soundtrack
“Put Your Records On”— Corinne Bailey Rae
“Drive My Car”— The Beatles (on the day we bought a new car!)
I’m going to be taking next week off for a winter break. The next post will be Tuesday, February 27.
Here’s to us, in all of our imperfect, striving goodness.
Keep hoping. Keep caring. Keep trying.