Three months ago, I moved across the state and felt completely off-balance. I was doing everything unpacking, new job, responsibilities piling up but neglecting myself entirely. That's when I discovered something that changed how I think about balance. Not as a perfect 50/50 split, but as something entirely different.
Rumi, the 13th-century poet, stated, "Life is a balance of holding on and letting go."
Imagine that you have to move in two weeks. Would you be able to pack all your possessions in that time and clean out your house completely?
How about your mental baggage? If you have only two days left to finish all the important projects in your life, would you be able to do it?
The Move That Changed Everything
Three months ago, I moved permanently to a different place on the west side of the state. I downsized from a 2-bedroom, 2-bath house to a 1-bed, 1-bath condo.
Packing was not easy because there were so many things that were meaningful to me, but of course, I couldn't take them all. But even more difficult was the part of leaving my friends and community behind. I couldn't put my friends in a suitcase and smuggle them across the state.
The Spinning Plates Problem
Has your life ever felt like a row of spinning plates?
I often visualize a plate spinner, a performer who captivates audiences by skillfully managing multiple plates on long sticks. The essence of the act lies in maintaining a delicate balance, spending just enough time and attention on each plate to keep it moving without losing track of others and causing them to shatter on the floor. This analogy resonates deeply with various aspects of my life, from work and family to fitness, friendships, volunteer work, school, and hobbies.
Throughout my adult life, I often used this spinning plates analogy to comprehend the complexities of my personal and professional life. Each aspect demanded attention, yet they all seemed to coexist simultaneously. The image resonated so profoundly with my ongoing sense of busyness that I never questioned its validity or the underlying message.
If we can spin these plates fast enough, we should be able to manage multiple tasks simultaneously. However, the person at the center of this whirlwind of attention is constantly darting back and forth, their mind racing with a jittery focus. This constant juggling act has always struck me as a manic and exhausting endeavor. While it may be entertaining to observe, does it truly reflect the quality of our lives? I, for one, have found myself entangled in this cycle.
That's when I realized: I was pouring everything into DOING (work, obligations, helping others) and nothing into BEING (rest, reflection, my own needs).
Life, in essence, is a delicate balancing act, and we are perpetually on the brink of a fall.
The Moment Everything Became Clear
I remember standing in my new kitchen at 11 p.m., surrounded by half-unpacked boxes, trying to find a coffee mug for the next morning. My cat was meowing for attention, my work laptop was pinging with emails, and I realized I hadn't sat down all day. That's when it hit me: I'd brought the spinning plates with me across the state.
I swamped myself with projects—unpacking boxes, starting a new job, worrying about my senior cat's health. The list kept growing.
I've tried to take on more responsibilities than I can handle, such as shopping, cooking, cleaning, and job duties. In the process, I've neglected some of my needs and priorities, including exercise and relaxation.
I felt utterly disoriented and out of balance.
It was a wake-up call. I need to make some changes.
From Spinning Plates to Simmering Pots
What if I shifted the perspective of my analogy for life from spinning plates to simmering pots?
What if I changed my style of ongoing busyness, often with no real finished projects or results, to a balanced, steady approach offering many possibilities?
So I envisioned a large stove with multiple burners covered with different pots in varying degrees of simmering.
This analogy showed a balanced beginning, middle, and end. It demonstrated a gentle way of creating something and then being able to savor it at the end.
Photo by Kevin McCutcheon on Unsplash
Then I thought of those frantic spinning plates. That image was all about a pointless activity with ongoing stressful attention, activity, and energy focused on preventing the plates from crashing at any moment.
No stopping, no relishing, no reflection, and really no true purpose.
What Actually Helped
Through meditation and yoga practices, I discovered the power of quieting the mental noise, finding stillness, and resetting my perspective. This became a lifeline. It did not solve everything, but it gave me a way to breathe through the chaos.
A single mindful breath became my anchor, calming my nervous system and reminding me to stay present, no matter how overwhelming life felt. Every breath I took was a testament to the possibility of change.
To stay grounded amidst the chaos, I focused on the present moment, relying on my senses to anchor myself rather than letting anxiety consume me.
Even in life's storms, there were moments of light—a kind word, a peaceful morning, or the chance to rest. Holding onto these fleeting moments kept me grounded.
When my worries and anxieties become overwhelming, I return to my breath. Through meditation, I ask myself, "What is truly going on here?"
These lifelines weren't about perfection or rigid routines; they were about creating space for calm amidst the chaos.
The Reality: I'm Still Learning
I've swung the pendulum from calm to chaos, leaving myself little time and space to find a balance between holding myself back and pushing myself.
While I know the choice was ultimately positive for me, I've struggled a bit in the execution. Even meeting the minimum might be challenging. Sometimes that means asking for help. Sometimes it means saying no. Think of it as saying yes to your happiness.
I also observed when I handled situations gracefully, resolved disputes, and calmed myself down. It wasn't about beating myself up over my mistakes or congratulating myself for doing well. It was simply about looking at myself more clearly and learning from my experiences. By doing this, I'm learning to navigate life's obstacles more gracefully.
Finding Your Own Balance
Balance isn't a destination I've reached. It's not something I've figured out. But I'm learning to check in with myself more often. To notice when I'm spinning plates again. To come back to the breath, to the simmering pots, to the question: What's truly going on here?
If you feel pulled in any direction and uneasy about it, it's helpful to check in with yourself to see if you feel balanced or stretched thin.
So I ask you: What does balance mean to you? Not the Instagram version, not the self-help book definition—YOUR balance. How do you find it? And when you lose it (because we all do), how do you find your way back?
