A little to the left, a little to the right – the good life is found through balance.
Work matters. Human beings are happy when they are productive, creative and engaged in life. We have a need to contribute. To participate. To feel accomplished. Not to mention that we have to pay the bills. I spent all day yesterday climbing up and down a 20’ extension ladder, painting. When I was finished, I was exhausted. Calf muscles and arches crying out in protest. Shoulders so fatigued I could barely lift my arms to brush my teeth. I was miserable … and deeply, deeply satisfied. Supremely pleased with myself.
But play matters, too. All work and no play makes Jack much worse than just a dull boy. Jack becomes a one-dimensional boy. He forgets to renew his spirit and imagination. Human beings are happy when they make time for hobbies, art, creative distraction, exercise, games and outright silliness. Or time to do nothing at all but sit, rest, and contemplate. The NFL season is approaching, which means the Sheboygan Frosties, the fantasy football team of which I’m the owner, are preparing for the draft. My son is the Frosties’ general manager. We’ll spend hours on this. Just because it’s fun. Ridiculous, yes, but fun.
I know plenty of people who work hard, then harder, make tons of money … and their marriages founder and their children don’t know them. These people are successful and accomplished. And depressed. Gladless. Often alone.
You know you’ve found a balance when much of your work is play, and play becomes a kind of work. A priority. A deliberate intention.
A little to the left, a little to the right – the good life is found through balance.
Feelings matter. The ability and willingness to feel deeply brings richness and depth to life. It clarifies values, invites passion, and beckons intimacy. To be emotionally conversant with oneself is an act of courage. All of your joy, all of your anger, all of your grief, all of your guilt, all of your fear – to be keenly related to the depth of our emotional reality yields vitality and the hope of meaning. It is the universal antidote to depression. Feelings make us alive. They enable us to be more present, faithful and authentic in relationship.
Yet, without the mooring objectivity of thinking, feelings swell to invasive proportions. Feelings can become oppressive, idolatrous, and ever-more demanding. Not every feeling is true, necessary, useful, or even accurate. Authentic emotional honesty is not the same as paralyzing sentimentality (from the Latin sentire, “to saturate with feeling.”)
But thinking matters, too. Thinking creates an objective space for feeling. In that important space, we can truly observe our feelings, rather than merely feel them. We our free, then, to make important distinctions between our feelings. We can shrug and laugh at some feelings. Then ignore them. Discard them. Treat them as “ego debris.” Take them about as seriously as the unexpected rising of some air bubble in our esophagus. Other feelings we deem real, edifying, necessary and meaningful. These we let have their way with us. We surrender to them. We let them lead us to places unknown. Paroxysms of joy. Laughing ‘til you cry. Crying until you laugh again.
When intellectually defended types come to therapy, I tend to under-react to their analytic prowess, waiting to notice and call their attention to some unacknowledged feeling. Conversely, when dramatically emotional types come to therapy, I tend to under-react to the strident feelings, and invite them to think with me.
A little to the left, a little to the right – the good life is found through balance.
We must balance Potential and Limits. Author Richard Bach says, “Argue for your limitations, and you get to keep them.” Surely he wasn’t being literal. Surely he cast as hyperbole “Many apparent limitations are in fact self-imposed.” Can I run farther than I think I can? You bet! Can I run forever? Nope. If I’m not smart enough to stop and rest, the lactic acid in my muscles will eventually make me fall down.
Here’s the paradoxical balance: The greatest human potential arises from the humble acknowledgement of limits. Our potential increases as we make peace with what is not ours to be, do and have. I am not God. I am mortal. I have never and will never dunk a basketball.
From there I can reach for the skies.
(Steven Kalas is an author, therapist and an Episcopal priest. He can be reached at skalas@marinscope.com.)
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