Developing an emerging sense of what I am going to call perfecting balance. I am not entirely sure how to verbalize what I mean, as I am attempting to describe a novel lived experience rather than apply a borrowed and shared descriptive concept.
This sense of perfecting balance first emerged in the period near Christmas at a time when I became decidedly unbalanced. I was deeply involved in the process of preparing a large set of TAQ submissions and was suddenly yanked into another dimension. The submission process fell by the wayside.
After events returned to normal (and I refer here to my “normal,” a rather unique and untypical mode of normalcy), I found it near impossible to pick up where I had left off. The documents I had been writing were complex and multifaceted. I had pages of supporting notes, and digital files, and draft text material, all of which had become completely foreign and unfathomable. Without fully realizing what I was doing, I began hunting around, seeking an entry point that would permit me to pick up the thread and continue on with the work. I could not find this entry point.
After a week of fruitless attempts, I suddenly reconnected and was able to resume work. Except that I now had a sense of being balanced on a knife edge, aware that if I pushed forward too hard, I would totter and fall. Conversely, if I did not push hard enough, nothing would get done and I would fall backward into the yawning abyss behind. Danger everywhere!
I am not sure my words match up with what I am attempting to describe, so let me try again.
I appear to be developing a sense of “right speed,” a forward velocity appropriate for me, one that is manageable and workable. If I attempt to go faster, then I face the danger of a crack up – the world shatters, I am forced to pick up the pieces, and start over. If I go too slowly, I become weighted down by the impossibility of making forward progress and I experience another type of crack up. This one is much harder to recover from.
Between these two operational limits, there exists a middle space, a Goldilocks velocity that is neither too fast, nor too slow. When I am in the correct range, I can sense it. I know it works. I know that my efforts have utility, that they are fruitful, that they lead forward. The final destination remains unclear, but I sense the direction of motion is correct and appropriate.
This sense of perfecting balance likely derives from a growing learned acceptance of my own errors and foibles. I have developed an ability to watch myself commit error, become aware of a frustration trigger, and am able to accept and acknowledge that a full blown frustration event has much greater negative effect than the original stupid error. Within this context of error, frustration, ability, and acceptance, I now appear able to maintain a psychic balance and avoid harshing on myself.
I am still uncertain if I have captured precisely what I attempt to convey. There is included the notion of extension, of moving out into uncharted waters, of exploration beyond my own limits, outside my present capabilities. I am like a man building a bridge of toothpicks across the Grand Canyon. The space to be bridged is vast, almost beyond comprehension. The daily effort, which consists of adding one slim toothpick to the nascent structure, appears completely out of scale relative to the final objective. From an outside perspective, my undertaking is laughable, a joke. From my perspective, the view of the person adding one tiny toothpick to the span, everything appears possible – it is simply a matter of time.
I have been uncertain if this post will make any sort of sense at all. Then I found the header image and I realized it captures exactly what I am trying to convey. The impossible stance of this little bead of water extended out, unsupported, surviving in open space, achieving a perfect balance. It is exactly that form of balance I am attempting to maintain.
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Update – Foibles
On rereading the text, I realized I need to explain what I mean by a “foible.” Here are two examples. Yesterday, I was departing the house to make photocopies. I set the phone out as it accompanies me everywhere in order to record my walk mileage. Since it was near sunset, I also set out a blinkie illuminator to make myself visible to car traffic.
En-route it was necessary to climb some four foot walls of snow that blocked entry to the sidewalk. Going up was not that difficult. The descent entailed a fall hazard, bad footing, the danger of a twisted, or broken ankle, a plunge into the stream of traffic. Glad I brought the phone so I might summon help if left immobile in the dark. But it had been forgotten at home despite having set it out so that it would not be missed.
At the start of the return trip, it was completely dark. I had to cross a parking lot a race track that served double duty as a parking lot. Glad I brought the blinkie! But when I reached for it, I found it too had been left behind despite being carefully set out so that it would not be forgotten.