Balancing act

On September 16, I read an essay at the Rehoboth Beach Writers Guild Night of Songs and Stories. In this event, all readers make remarks on a given theme – in this case: Balancing Act. Here’s what that theme evoked for me…

Balancing Act

The performance between the opening and closing acts of life is the Balancing Act – where life is shaped by choices that seesaw. For me – as for many – work/life equivocations have made for an ever-changing script.

Career opportunities vs proximity to family. My eight years away from my inner circle in my 20s launched a rewarding career, and introduced me to lifelong friends. But it also meant that I lived significant experiences at a distance – my best friend’s wedding planning, my mom’s cancer battle, my nieces and nephews’ youngest years. Moving closer to home put me on more solid ground.

Long hours vs time for personal priorities. 50-hour work weeks produced accomplishments, but when my loved ones thought I was too busy for them, I deliberately rebalanced to get more life in my life.

Juggling many projects vs investing in deep work. Finally opting for quality over quantity has led to more fulfilling contributions even if less lucrative.

There are other ditherings that have also furthered the plot: shoulds vs wants, needs of one vs needs of another, now vs later.

In the balancing act, the story’s genre is revealed. It hasn’t been a success story; I’m not rich or famous. It’s not a love story; I never did find my prince. It’s not a grand adventure or sports epic or triumphant turn-around. But nor is it true crime, or horror, or tragedy.

I think – hope – that my story is unfolding as a slow-reveal character study of a family mainstay, staunch friend, learning facilitator, and word weaver – rocked by life’s ebbs and flows.

A saying learned back in the opening act overarches the entire play:

“Life is but a bridge we build, to link before and after. And one is wise to build a span on faith, and love, and laughter.”

A brief review of the evening…

The other stories prompted by the theme were varied: poignant, funny, heartbreaking, contemplative. We heard about the balancing acts around sharing custody, navigating opposites-attract relationships, observing the balance of nature, juggling motherhood and one’s own desires, exploring new love in retirement, knowing when to speak and when to keep quiet, caring for sick loved ones, and moving forward after loved ones are gone. All were beautifully written and read.

One funny reading opened with the line: “At what point does a wife say something?” – read with such dramatic flair the whole room laughed in sympathy – everyone has felt the pain of biting one’s tongue. The story was about how the husband put the wife’s suitcase on top of the car after she had made a case about keeping it inside… and the suitcase flew off and strew belongings all over the highway. A kind police officer stopped traffic and told her she had ONE MINUTE to gather her things or he would cite her for littering.

Another reader – a woman I know from my life in Wilmington – told a funny story about how one cawing crow took up residence across the street from her home, and proceeded to move a small family cluster in with it. But the local seagulls took exception to this after one of the crows tried to muscle in on a cache of french fries at the beach. A whole flock of seagulls showed up to drive the crows out – the reader described a veritable West Side Story fight sequence in the skies above the neighborhood in a very funny way. Order and quiet was restored. I’d love to develop a talent for wry and funny observations like these.

I had a number of people offer compliments on my own reading afterwards, which warms my heart. I have in mind that the next time I read, I want to take 300 words to tell a story rather than offer the same kind of thought-provoking essay I’ve read these first few times. Stretch those writing muscles, maybe try to be amusing in some way (we’ll see)…

The first draft

In case you ever wondered – my essays (and blog posts) go through a number of iterations before I decide they are ready to share. (Often reconsidered and mentally rewritten on a beach walk…)

For example, here’s the first draft of this particular essay. I decided (and Jo concurred) that the first draft buried the theme and was not personal enough – and Jo also suggested inserting more language that hearkened back to the theme (balancing). I think the final essay was much better, but I don’t get there unless I start somewhere and then sit on it for a bit…

The opening act of my life was a gentle one, where I first met loving parents, five dissimilar siblings, and my lifelong best friend. A suburban Cape Cod served as the consistent backdrop, and sixteen years of Catholic education prepared me for adulting.

The next act, the Balancing Act, is where life was shaped by balancing this and that. Career opportunities vs proximity to family. Work intensity vs deep connections, and fun activities, and personal projects. Church doctrine vs held beliefs. Needs of one vs needs of another. Real costs vs imagined benefits. Long-held dreams vs sometimes harsh reality. In the balancing act, I learned to improvise – to catch what life tossed me and go with it, whether that meant pausing for a happy dance or struggling to keep from being bowled over.

In my current Penultimate Act, the genre of the story is playing itself out. It hasn’t been a success story; I’m not rich or famous. It’s not a love story; I never did find my prince. It’s not an action adventure because I’m not all that adventurous. But it’s also not true crime, or horror, or tragedy.

I think my story is still unfolding as a slow-reveal character study of a family mainstay, staunch friend, maker of learning experiences, and weaver of words – a life full of typical ups and downs with moments of real joy and real pain.

I hope it will be a long time before the closing act. In the meantime, I can continue to remember something I learned all the way back in the opening act – a saying that overarches the entire play:

“Life is but a bridge we build, to link before and after. And one is wise to build a span on faith, and love, and laughter.”