Written by Miller Hollstein
I’m not sure when or how it began, but like clockwork, every 2 years, I receive a small but meaningful gift from my dad: an Olympic t-shirt.
This year it was for the Paris Olympics.
Arriving in the mail a week before the opening ceremony, we donned our apparel with pride as we examined the schedule for our favorite events.
Of course, track and field is up at the top of that list, but one I have grown to appreciate more and more as the years have passed is gymnastics.
Not for the leotards, the unbelievable feats of acrobatics, or the bouncy floor routines.
For the balance beam.
Balance has always intrigued me.
From a young age, it was something I was naturally gifted with.
It began casually; walking on curbs and cracks, but quickly progressed to teetering on the pitch of our roof, rock hopping across rivers, skateboarding, and eventually, slacklining.
Standing atop the thin, wavering strap, with the cold wind pressing against my body and the vast sky above, slacklining wasn't just about staying upright—it was about feeling every subtle shift, every breath as a conversation with gravity.
As the difficulty increased, I was forced to get in greater touch with my body and the forces at play. And more, I learned the paradoxical truth behind what balance really is, unlocking the secret to steadiness.
Simon says, “Balance on one leg.”
Most of us pick up one leg and lock into place, trying as hard as we can not to waver and lean. Often, we resist too much and come crashing down.
The problem: we think balance means no motion. A perfect 50/50 split.
But this is far from the truth.
Balance is a dance, not a single point of stillness. It’s a fluctuation.
It’s about finding your equilibrium and adjusting, honoring those fluctuations.
If we look at the world around us, we see fluctuations everywhere. Nature is made up of these.
The seasons, temperature, the tides, day and night, life and death. All of these things work in complete harmony. Yes, at a glance, a single point in time may show an extreme to one side, but over time, as we observe the coming and going of these forces, an equilibrium emerges.
As humans, we are part of this world of nature. We too experience fluctuations. Emotions, sickness and health, breathing, sleeping and waking.
And being part of this natural world, why should we be so bold as to think that we can remain unaffected by the fluctuations? How can we think that anything can remain perfectly steady? Unmoved and still.
Imagine a tightrope walker or a gymnast on a beam.
They aren’t still and steady. Even after years of practice (while they may be incredibly poised), they waver and lean. Arms and legs flail a bit. Hips are thrown to one side.
But, upright they remain.
Their movements, a constant adjustment of forces, remind us that life too requires us to find our footing anew each day. Embrace the fluctuations, and you'll find stability not in stillness, but in motion.
This is the dance of balance. The dance of life.
To fight the fluctuations of life only results in resistance. A crash to the ground.
Like a tree bending in the wind, we must learn to sway with the challenges of life, rooted yet flexible—this is the true essence of finding balance.
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