balance

The wind moves through the tree, touching every needle. Branches wave. Even the trunk gently sways, creaking. The whole shape undulates.

But even standing in the relentless current of strong gusts, the tree does not topple. It is balanced: below to above. A crisscrossing network of hidden roots anchors trunk to earth.

And roots don't just stabilize: they nourish. Stable and quenched, the tree reaches for the sun, plucking energy from the sky.

Depth balances height. Stability grants life. Height yields strength.

***

I always wake before the kids. Before Ruthie was born, I used this time to practice yoga. Start the day out right.

But during Ruthie's newborn days, I began using my morning time to work – I just couldn't sit down at the computer after a day of bouncing a crying baby. At 9 or 10 pm, when she was finally asleep for the night, I needed to unwind and crash. This pattern stuck, and when she began developing an earlier, more predictable bedtime, I used those unwinding hours to write, practice yoga, or hang out with John.

But recently, I've found it a great struggle to rise early and work at my computer.

I get up, stumble toward my coffee, and eat breakfast. After wasting time surfing the internet, I start my work…but inevitably I complete little before the kids awaken. I wake up early "for nothing," it often seems. So I arrive at the end of the day with depleted energy and no motivation. I can only find fulfillment curling up on the couch.

I'm neglecting my thirst-quenching, stabilizing depths. And though I'm not withered or toppled yet, I can predict my own fall. I know this about myself: I seek – I crave – I love – I require balance. And I know what happens without it.

So I'm flipping my day on end.

I'm returning to a morning yoga practice to feed my roots so that when life gusts, I feel affected but standing.

This is preventative medicine.


 
Are you balanced? If not, can you rearrange something in your day so that you're feeding your depths?