Keeping Our Balance

I've been thinking a lot about balance this week -- balance as a state of equilibrium. Balance can refer to bodily equilibrium or to mental steadiness and emotional stability. It has also been defined as a state of rest.  

Mostly though, I've been thinking about maintaining balance. 

If you've ever tried to keep your body balanced while standing on one foot, or walking on a curb as if it was a balance beam, or even trying to ride a bike with no hands, you know that while you may first establish your equilibrium with both of your arms out to the side, to maintain the balance as you go forward, you start moving your arms up and down -- each one a little differently -- to whatever degree you need. You are constantly aware of making these necessary movements.

Have you ever noticed that you only need to make small adjustments to do this? You only move your arms slightly. In fact, if you make too big of an adjustment, it can actually throw you off balance. (I will leave it to the scientists out there to explain the physics of all this.) 

Furthermore, experts tell us that if we want to improve our balance, we should focus on strengthening our core muscles -- the ones located in our torso -- because these are the muscles that provide the support for the spine and pelvis. In other words, it's really not how we use our arms that is the primary key to maintaining our balance, it's how we use these core muscles to hold our torso steady. 

Keeping our balance in relationships is quite similar to maintaining our bodily balance. When we experience equilibrium in a relationship -- both internally for us as individuals, as well as between us and the other person -- we enjoy that state of rest and our relational interactions are good. But frequently something knocks us off balance -- a look, a remark, an unexpected emotion -- and our stability is compromised.

What's interesting is that when we experience being off balance in this realm -- when that mental or emotional stability is affected -- small adjustments feel counter intuitive to us. In that moment of sudden instability, our first instinct is to make a huge gesture -- something with a lot of power behind it. We quickly discover that the big reaction does nothing to help our equilibrium, it only pushes us more off kilter, sometimes even in the opposite direction!

I recently experienced this myself when my emotional equilibrium was thrown off in a couple of conversations. My adjustments were too big and I saw they took me where I didn't want to go with my interactions. It also required considerably more work to get things back on track and created additional dynamics for me in trying to regain my emotional balance.

If we understand the law of small adjustments, we can learn how to temper our reactions. We can see that we don't need use as much emotion in our words when we say them, or to go on the offensive so strongly. We can recognize that the small adjustments to maintain our personal balance can contribute to keeping the balance in the bigger relationship picture.

Also, the remedy for improving our mental and emotional steadiness in these conversations is the same as the body work: we strengthen our core -- the innermost, essential part of who we are, the truths in our hearts and minds that can keep us steady in those moments. If we learn how to strengthen our core abilities, we can find ways to keep our composure and cultivate a habit of calm behavior.

When I went to rowing practice early this morning it was still dark outside; the black sky was full of bright, glittering stars. As we practiced though, the sun came up, causing all of those beautiful stars to disappear. It was somehow comforting to me to know that they weren't really gone, but only that the elements of the day had altered my seeing them.

Just like those stars, our core abilities for our own equilibrium are always with us. In the times when we're not seeing them, we just have to remember they are there and go to the place of using them as that primary key to keeping our balance. In the meantime, it's good to know the pathway of small adjustments can help lead us there.

Here's to your trying some small adjustments this week!
Kay
www.confidentconflict.com

Gratitude

This week I'm going to do things a little differently -- I'm going to use my post to write to some specific people in my life.

Yesterday I enjoyed the blessing of being a guest on Marnie's Friends, a Blog Talk Radio show. It was the first time I'd ever done anything like that and I was feeling the normal emotions that surround anticipating an unfamiliar encounter.

Prior to the show, I spoke with and emailed my family and some friends to let them know about the upcoming event, but mainly I wanted to ask for their support and prayers in this new adventure. 

Of course, being the dear people that they are, they called, emailed, and texted to let me know they were cheering me on. Their messages -- written and spoken -- were ones of encouragement and confidence, and with every one I could feel that support. (A few of these people even gave hours of their time to help me prepare!)

When I began this blog, my very first post talked of how I'd been feeling about beginning something new and jumping from the known to the unknown. I made the remark, "There just doesn't seem to be any bridge to take me easily across the divide between my comfort in the known and my total lack of experience . . ." 

This week, these marvelously thoughtful people were that very bridge for me.

On the actual day of the show as I was utilizing all my strategies to "gear up" for the occasion, I became keenly aware of that divide again. So I recalled their sentiments, reread their emails and texts, replayed their voicemails, and received the new communications of their thoughts for me on that day. I let all of their words wash over me and flow into my heart.

As I did this, I could feel the bridge being constructed -- I could feel all their kindnesses lifting me safely across that divide.

Words fail me here in describing the depth of what that meant to me, but words are all I have, and through this blog, I also have a way to publicly speak of their goodness to me. Maybe in knowing this heralding is being published on the internet, they will somehow understand the level of honor I'm longing to express.

So to each of you, Dear Wonderful People of My Heart,

Thank You!

Know that your effort was no small feat; it absolutely hit the mark.
Know that I truly couldn't have made the leap without your faith in me; your support carried me through.

And know -- above all else -- I shall forever be grateful.

Love to all of you,
Kay     

Being You

I've been working on a project this week that has really been challenging.

Challenging, in part, because I'm just learning how to do this particular task, but mostly because I ultimately need to do it in a way that is authentically me.

This is a tricky situation because when you don't know how to do something, you generally seek out the instruction of others who have gone before you and try to follow their footsteps, learning their principles of success. But, confusingly (for me), what keeps popping up is often their biggest success principle is that they blazed their own trail. (sigh) 

Frequently, we hear the advice, "be yourself" or "pay attention to your own light," or even "follow your passion." You'd think that would be simple to do, easy advice to follow. But I haven't found that to be the case. I hear myself responding with thoughts like "well, who in the world am I?" or "I don't even know what my light looks like!" or "What the heck is my passion?"

I have come to the conclusion that "being you" can be a pretty tough trail to blaze.

As I was struggling with all this, one of my devotional readings this week was the biblical account of David and Goliath (1Samuel 17). Many people have heard this story even if they're not Christians.  It's about a young man -- a shepherd -- going up against a great big fella, Goliath, in a battle between the Israelites and the Philistines. Goliath was a formidable combatant and very intimidating to all the armies. Anyway, David ends up fighting him in the name of his Lord with only a slingshot and stones from a nearby stream -- and kills him, much to the astonishment of all.

Now, the part I want to get to is this: As David was readying himself for the battle, the Scripture says that Saul, the king, put his own armor on David, along with his helmet and sword; then David took some time to walk around in it all and see how he could maneuver because he wasn't used to fighting with all those things on him -- some translations say "he hadn't tested them." But then, David took it all off, declaring he could hardly move and that these were not proven weapons for him. So he picked up his shepherd's staff, his slingshot, and the stones to arm himself for battle.

Even though the king (and probably many of the other soldiers all around him) was in essence saying to David, "this is how you fight this guy -- you need armor, and a helmet and a sword -- (which was fine because they were experienced soldiers and these weapons were proven to be successful for them in battle), when it came time for David to face Goliath himself, he had to rely on what he knew worked in his own experience -- even if it meant doing something different from the advice he'd been given.

As I was reading this, it dawned on me that was exactly what had been happening with me in this project. I'd been trying to walk around in someone else's armor -- trying to use someone else's weapon of choice in fighting the battle for success. I saw in David's courageous decision to stick with what he knew from his own experience -- what he had already tested for himself -- the way that I had to "be me" in this project.

David grew up herding sheep -- he'd fought his own battles and learned a thing or two --
and even though his battles were not among armies, but with fierce animals that were threatening his sheep, he recalled his experiences and had no doubt about his strengths. As I saw this, I realized I had been trying so hard to learn what I didn't know that I completely forgot to notice what I did know!

Now here was something I could get a handle on! I could think about what kinds of things I already knew worked for me -- and what didn't -- what things helped me be my strongest self, and what made me feel weak or insecure. I could "try on" everyone else's armor -- their advice, their rules for success -- and if I couldn't "walk around" in some of them, I gave myself permission to lay them aside and to truly identify my own "slingshot and stones."

God was with David in facing Goliath that day -- and David's greatest faith was in His power. It is my faith for my project that God's presence in it is my greatest power for success as well.  I also believe He has somehow put proven weapons of my own in my hands.

I'm sure this will be an on-going journey for me (and I will undoubtedly blog in the future about variations on finding myself!), but for this week I learned what I needed to: that it is essential to trust what I have already learned in my life, and to make the courageous decision to behave in ways already proven to be a fit for my greatest strength.

It remains to be seen whether or not my project will be successful, but either way, I am delighted to know I'm one step further on the path to being me.

Wishing you "David" moments of being you this week!

Kay
www.confidentconflict.com

Light

One summer when I was in college, I had a friend who was from Texas. He played football for his Texas college team and had a warm, Texas-size heart. 

We knew each other because our fathers were Army officers at the time stationed at the same Post. When we went to our respective homes for summer break, we met and became friends. I really enjoyed hanging out with him -- he seemed to make everything fun.

One evening we were walking to the Post movie theater and decided to take a short-cut though a small forest. There was a lot of moonlight that night, but as we moved through the thick of the trees he took my hand as if to guide me, and then he told me, "Only step where the light is -- you don't know what the dark places are."

Neither of us realized the life wisdom he was imparting to me in that moment. His instruction that night to step with care, to only move forward with the sure-footedness that came with clearly seeing the illuminated places ahead of me, has often been my inward counsel as I have tried to navigate my way through what seemed to be the "forests" of my life.

Of course, the concept of light for one's steps isn't new, much has been written and said about the topic. The Bible talks about the ancient practice of using foot lamps to light a path with each step, and a well-worn book of mine is Stormie Ormartian's, "Just Enough Light for the Step I'm On." My friend's advice, however, feels subtly different to me, because it is not so much about what the light is going to do, but more about how I am to move in relation to the light.
 
That summer night in my desire to keep up with his stride, it was very tempting to just go ahead and step in the dark places even though I knew he was right (one of them could have been a hole!). I wanted to move faster -- it slowed me down to look for the light first. I had to resist my impulse and exercise some discipline.

I think this restraint is hard to come by in our own life's journeys: to be patient when we want to move ahead, to wait for something to illuminate where we're going -- that next insight, new knowledge, or the counsel that is to come our way. We may feel pressure from people around us to take a step of action quickly (or perhaps internally we think we ought to be doing something more to move forward). It might even be hard for us to admit that we can't see the next step.

But it isn't good for us, and it's not good for our situation, to move ahead blindly -- to step where it's dark. We need to believe that it is wisdom to only operate in that clear vison light can bring.

There's a confidence that comes from stepping where we can see. I recognize that feeling. I recognize the absence of it too -- the anxiety, the sense of blindness or confusion, the insecurity of not knowing if that darkness holds solid ground. I myself have come to believe in the importance of this principle of moving in the light and in resisting the temptation to behave to the contrary.

We need to pause until the light comes -- for come it will. In the quiet waiting, in the searching, in the praying, it comes.

I want to encourage you today to understand the truth in this. When you can't quite see what to do next, when that step is in darkness, but you're feeling some sense of urgency to move ahead anyway -- stop for a moment, take a deep breath, and be still.

Then, for whatever amount of time you need -- unapologetically -- wait for the light.

Here's to your finding light for every step!

Kay
www.confidentconflict.com