And I fall. Dammit.
Other days, I can’t seem to balance at all, or at most, for a couple of seconds, before I fall one way or another. It’s frustrating: a pose I could do yesterday for 30 seconds, I can’t do today for 5. Or maybe I can balance on one leg, but not the other. Why am I so inconsistent? That doesn’t make sense to me – it’s the same body, after all.
Except it isn’t, as Trish would say. Each day is different: I’ve had different sleep, different food, different stressors. Really, different everything. When very little day-to-day is the same, why would I expect my body to be the same? Why would I expect my balance to be the same?
If I could have a superpower, perhaps I’d want perfect balance. I’d want to be able to float through whatever one-legged position the Method trainers could devise, and float just as easily through the constant vicissitudes of life. I’d be able to calmly go from work to motherhood to the gym to sleep to meditation to friendship to extended family to housework to…everything else. I’d effortlessly transition through life and yoga poses alike.
But in reality, I kind of suck at this. Just when I feel like I’m balancing, I fall. Just when I find a calm, gentle center, the dishes pile up. Or the baby cries. Or the 6-year-old has a tantrum. Or I collect 50 new papers to grade. Or I realize I have to make dinner. The possibilities for disruption of balance are endless, and often as unpredictable changes in the wind.
Or, I could lean into the struggle, accepting the incredibly natural and practical reality that my balance won’t be perfect, and it won’t be the same every day; that there is no Magic Balance Switch, and that I’m not actually a balancing superhero. I’m just human, sometimes in balance and sometimes flailing and falling, like everyone else; after all, no one can balance forever. I could modify, adjusting to the state I was in that day: flipping the Bosu over, or not using it at all.
And when I struggle to find balance in my life, I could accept that struggle, allow myself to have a meltdown now and then, and modify my life. I could kindly say no to the next request, leave the dishes for the next day, or ask my very supportive husband to be on kid duty so I can take a nap.
So I topple over. Kristen laughs at me. I laugh at myself. Then, I kick the Bosu aside, plant my feet on the floor, and try again.