As the Balance Tilts
As long as I’ve been practicing yoga, there has been the offered option of doing balance poses with wall support. The first years, I availed myself of it. Surely preferable, I figured, to the shame of falling out. I was failing at a lot in those years: motherhood, relationships, self-esteem. I could at least not make a fool of myself in yoga.
Since then, as I’ve become a hiker, I’ve learned something new about practicing equilibrium: regaining balance is more important than retaining balance.
I no longer use the wall in yoga. I lean this way and that, practicing tree pose: extend an arm, keep my third eye on the focal point, tap my raised foot down as needed and quickly return to the pose. Because I engage with the wobble, I can confidently cross a log on the trail without falling into the creek.
Balance is an illusion
Elizabeth says, in this month’s dharma talks, that balance is an illusion. We fall in and out of balance. On the mat and in life, equilibrium is a practice, not an achievement. Balance is about constantly adapting.
In this third act of life, literal balance becomes more illusive, falling more certain, injury more likely. I use trekking poles when I hike, the equivalent of a wall. My hand is ready to grab a stair railing at home and out in the world, if not engaged in a death grip. It’s not a contest of who can stand on one leg the longest. It’s a personal achievement every day we don’t break a hip or twist an ankle.
My daughter’s Achilles tendon ruptured five weeks ago; it’s been completely non-weight bearing, she relies on crutches (and a scooter). I’m thinking about that word, “crutch.” It has negative connotations: “something excessively relied on.” But a crutch can also be a necessity, not only for mobility, but emotional health. We reach for a railing, another person, a ritual—the support keeps us balanced. It’s an illusion to think we can stay upright alone at all times. But when we become afraid to let go, we deprive ourselves of a learning opportunity.
In those early years of yoga, it wasn’t so much that my balance was poor, as that my confidence was. Afraid to fail, I didn’t give myself a chance to succeed.
Give and take live on the same coin.
Without both, there is no balance.
In this season associated with giving, I’m also thinking about the need to balance giving with taking. The ability to give often comes from a place of privilege not accorded to all, it makes us feel good about ourselves to give. (I won’t get into that here.) But we tend to think of taking—like falling out of balance, or using the wall to stay upright—as shameful. The dharma word last month was “take.” Elizabeth posited that the word implies an action different from the more passive “accept” or “receive.” Ponder that.
When we need help, we tend to sit back and see what is offered rather than initiating a request. Then we try to deny the need—“No, no, I’m good; well, if you insist…”—clinging to the wall of self-reliance we’ve built.
Did you know that a caregiver attends to humans and a caretaker looks after property? (That’s just an aside.) I suggest that a caretaker is also the recipient of care, ideally involving asking for assistance, not just passively accepting. It was so hard for my mother to ask for help—or to receive it, for that matter. Taking requires a lifetime of practice she didn’t have. I tried to tell her she was depriving others of the gift of giving; it was a balance she never embraced. (And it was exhausting. Here’s a deleted scene from my memoir illustrating my point.)
Over the years, I have observed all the ways my daughter and her partner give to others. When she was injured, rather than wait to see what was offered once the word got out, they notified their community as soon as they left the ER. They asked for what they needed right then, and have taken what was offered in the weeks since. Unlike my mother (and probably me), they’ve found balance.
It’s been a gift to me to be asked by my family for help over the past decade. This is the time in my third act to be the caregiver. The day will come, when I will be the caretaker. Our lives are not made of equal parts give and take within any given time. It ebbs and flows. To think we can keep it always in balance is illusion.
Whatever your feelings about the holiday season—and I acknowledge the difficulty—I wish for you balance.
❄️ ❄️ ❄️
Where have you found balance in your life? When have you struggled? What are your feelings about giving and taking? I would love to hear. Leave a comment below.
P.S. If you would like to potentially improve your balance and flexibility through yoga, right from home, I invite you to check out Elizabeth’s on-demand classes by subscription on her Patreon site. There are many posts with different focuses and of differing lengths. Check it out here.
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I was born with cerebral palsy, so I have had balance issues all of my life. I can’t stand on my left foot alone for more than the merest fraction of a second. That said, I stumbled and fell a lot and did not have a serious injury until I was in my fifties and broke my left hand in two places. I don’t have the fear many have of falling because I’ve taken tumbles all of my life. I am careful on stairs and on uneven surfaces and walk more slowly than many people. What is harder for me than physical balance is developing some kind of life balance — I find myself overextending to meet a deadline (not one of my choice) and then getting sick from the stress of pushing. I normally have fairly healthy diet and exercise routines, but unusual occurrences can push me out of them (recent examples include misplacing the keys to my house for well over a week and reorganizing my garage to prevent flooding). It’s all I can do to return to basics: cook some nutritious food, rest, hydrate and wait until I feel better.
Thank you for sharing your story, Sharyn.
In both my personal and professional life, I am most comfortable in the role of giver rather than take. I acknowledge that I need to find great balance in this area, especially as I age and need more assistance with “things.” Gretchen’s recent post reminds me of my own recent experiences as a giver and a taker that gave me a wonderful sense of balance. It also gave me much to think about.
This past summer I had the pleasure of financing a portion (i.e., hotel, day trips, city attractions) of a trip to Scotland for my nephew, his wife, and their daughter. Since I do not live near them and therefore do not have the opportunity to “treat” them to dinner or a small purchase here and there except when I visit a couple times per year, the trip was an opportunity to give something special to the ones I love. All three graciously expressed their gratitude, stating that the “gift” was never expected. My nephew them took up the job of searching out great restaurants and pubs, a role he excelled at and gave us new places to explore every day. We talked, ate, drank, and laughed our way across Scotland. It was so much fun. I was and am glad to be in a position to do such things for my family but mostly grateful for the time to spend quality time with them.
At Thanksgiving, the tables were turned. As we confirmed plans for my visit at Thanksgiving, my nephew and his family said they wanted to take me out for a day of shopping and lunch, ending with a whiskey bar. They explained that they hoped I would find a tennis shoe that would help alleviate the hip pain I sometimes experience. My reaction was, “That is so thoughtful. It sounds like fun!” We did just as planned, beginning with shopping for a new pair of tennis shoes — which of course I found. As I went to pay, however, I was surprised when my nephew’s wife insisted on paying. Like their response to the trip, my initial response was, “You don’t need to pay for my shoes” “We love you and want to do something for you,” my nephew’s wife replied with a smile and a hug. It was so sweet, and I did, in fact, feel loved. I thanked them sincerely and greatly appreciated an unexpected day of being “treated”– shoes, lunch, and a nice whiskey to end the day–all the while chatting and joking around with those I love.
Reflecting on these two stories in relation to Gretchen’s blog drew my attention to several aspects of these experiences. It is interesting that my nephew, his family, and I felt we needed to let the other know that what was given was not expected. Perhaps it speaks to us as “uneasy” takers. More importantly, in my view, the two stories show a reciprocity of sorts, one of mutual giving and taking, that demonstrates care for one another. They also speak to the balance of giving and taking.
As both the giver and taker in these stories I felt, and continue to feel, very blessed–not for what was given or taken–but rather that both experiences afforded me time spent with my nephew, his wife, and their daughter. Perhaps this is the perspective I need to adopt in other areas of life as future situations potentially may increase my role as taker. Maybe I need to approach such exchanges with a mindset of being thankful for the interaction with others rather than feeling like I am being demanding or burdensome. There is much to ponder here.
Thanks, Gretchen!
I got so annoyed over the years with men play-fighting over who was picking up the check for dinner. It always seemed like a game, a stupid one. Maybe because of that, I have now learned when someone says they are paying for my coffee to just say “thank you.” It doesn’t come easily. Isn’t that silly? Thank you for the story, Gayle. G
Lots of food for thought!
I’m not much good at receiving/taking. Nor am I much good at giving. It all makes me uncomfortable somehow. I do it, I try to be graceful about it, but it makes me squirm inside. Isn’t that weird? Wish I knew why. I’m terrible at gift giving too, especially things, presents. Never got that gene I guess. And caregiving, I’m pretty poor at that too.
As for balance… well, I hold the stairs railings now for sure
Ah well, it’s all a balancing act I guess.. and I will check out the yoga for sure, thanks!