When I was young, there were times -- most likely when one of my brothers was torturing me -- that I wished I had a sister. And I thought a twin sister would be the perfect comrade. To me, twins represented a balance; what I was lacking, my twin would have in plenty and vice versa, creating a better version of each of us.
Perhaps my longing for a twin was due to some unconscious notion that I lacked balance. This idea of balance can be a bit elusive, in part because it can have different meanings. A person can have good balance, can balance other things, and can be balanced. For example, I have good balance; I can hold yoga balance postures for quite some time (although I attribute this to years of ballet and not a cleared mind, as yoga promotes). I am not, however, good at balancing actual things. In Malawi, many women are very good at this. They are able to balance large objects -- buckets, boxes, bundles of sticks -- on their heads with ease and then walk to their destination with the objects still poised there precariously. Never have I seen any of these things come toppling off a woman's head here.
But being balanced, now that's the slippery one.
But being balanced, now that's the slippery one.
There is the idea, at least in the U.S., that being balanced is a state of being that should be sought after because it makes a person more whole, happier, and more productive. If all aspects of my life are in harmony, if I'm giving them equal amounts of attention, then I will be balanced. I disagree. In fact, I would argue that being balanced is actually counterproductive.
I will relate the difficulty and danger of being balanced to teaching high school. When I worked as a high school teacher, I taught four different courses each day. That meant that I needed to create four different lesson plans each school day, with a total of 20 separate lesson plans a week. Now, I realize that some people (hopefully none of you) think that teaching is easy, but it is difficult, exhausting, and time-consuming. Being a good teacher takes ingenuity, creativity, and expertise in the subject matter. Developing 20 excellent lessons takes at the very minimum 20 hours. Is that feasible? Well, even if I could do that for one week, it's pretty much physically and mentally impossible to sustain that throughout the school year. So, what has to happen? Imbalance.
For example, maybe for three days, I create fantastic lesson plans for two of my classes while the lesson plans for the other two classes are less inspiring. Then I switch and make wonderful lessons for those second two classes for a few days while having the other two classes do activities that aren't as well-planned or creative. To me, by creating imbalance, I succeed more than if I tried to actually be balanced. Striving for balance -- dividing my time and energy equally each day among the four classes' lessons -- would result in either my becoming burnt out or my being a mediocre teacher, with mediocre lessons, all the time. Neither of those options is very appealing to me. Thus, putting more energy and time into one thing for a while is a way to eschew mediocrity. (This way of thinking is also how I justify eating giant slabs of chocolate for dinner sometimes, but I'm not sure if I could fully support that with this same argument if challenged.)
My point is that people should stop striving to achieve this state of 'being balanced.' Do you want to spend more time with your family? Great, do it. And as a result perhaps you need to spend less time at the gym or order take out more or not work sixty hours a week. So be it. But people (and I feel like women have it harder because they're expected to do it all and still look pretty) shouldn't feel like failures or feel guilty because they cannot 'balance their lives.' Drop that notion of failure. Forget about your phantom twin (unless, of course, you actually are a twin), and delight in being imbalanced.
I will relate the difficulty and danger of being balanced to teaching high school. When I worked as a high school teacher, I taught four different courses each day. That meant that I needed to create four different lesson plans each school day, with a total of 20 separate lesson plans a week. Now, I realize that some people (hopefully none of you) think that teaching is easy, but it is difficult, exhausting, and time-consuming. Being a good teacher takes ingenuity, creativity, and expertise in the subject matter. Developing 20 excellent lessons takes at the very minimum 20 hours. Is that feasible? Well, even if I could do that for one week, it's pretty much physically and mentally impossible to sustain that throughout the school year. So, what has to happen? Imbalance.
For example, maybe for three days, I create fantastic lesson plans for two of my classes while the lesson plans for the other two classes are less inspiring. Then I switch and make wonderful lessons for those second two classes for a few days while having the other two classes do activities that aren't as well-planned or creative. To me, by creating imbalance, I succeed more than if I tried to actually be balanced. Striving for balance -- dividing my time and energy equally each day among the four classes' lessons -- would result in either my becoming burnt out or my being a mediocre teacher, with mediocre lessons, all the time. Neither of those options is very appealing to me. Thus, putting more energy and time into one thing for a while is a way to eschew mediocrity. (This way of thinking is also how I justify eating giant slabs of chocolate for dinner sometimes, but I'm not sure if I could fully support that with this same argument if challenged.)
My point is that people should stop striving to achieve this state of 'being balanced.' Do you want to spend more time with your family? Great, do it. And as a result perhaps you need to spend less time at the gym or order take out more or not work sixty hours a week. So be it. But people (and I feel like women have it harder because they're expected to do it all and still look pretty) shouldn't feel like failures or feel guilty because they cannot 'balance their lives.' Drop that notion of failure. Forget about your phantom twin (unless, of course, you actually are a twin), and delight in being imbalanced.
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