I don’t like the word ‘balance.’ I never really have. Because there’s this static connotation to it, for me. Like I’ve achieved it finally, and now I’m good forever. Like it’s this linear path that I’ve just got to get to.
And that’s never been my experience.
Homeostasis feels more accurate to me. Because it’s balance in motion. It’s an ever-evolving, ever-moving juggling act. And some days I’m going to be unbalanced. I’m going to have demanding days. And that’s okay. Our bodies and energy systems are built to withstand a certain level of stress. Provided we give it some extra nourishment on the backend.
We’re not such simple, static objects. We’re human beings. Living, breathing, complex, ever-changing creatures. And ‘balance’ feels, to me, like the one-dimensional, arbitrary snapshot of the very dynamic process of homeostasis.
Because creation, itself, isn’t dead. It’s alive. It’s constantly alive. And the more we understand that, the less we can objectify ourselves—or judge ourselves against the perceived perfection of an object.
We all sort of think of creation as dead, right? Like I build a successful business, and bam—it’s amazing, and I never have to worry about work again. Or I find my perfect relationship and now it’s Instagram-worthy happiness for the rest of my life. Or I buy my dream home, and it’s classy dinner parties from here to eternity.
Except, exactly like homeostasis, it’s alive and—therefore—ever-evolving. My relationship isn’t some object that is solidified and in the ground. It’s changing all the time. And it needs constant cultivating, molding, and creating to stay healthy.
It’d be weird if I thought, “Well, I ate food once, so I’m pretty much good there.” So why would I think that way about anything? Of course all of creation is alive. Of course we’re constantly creating the lives we want over and over again. There’s no linear “achieving” and that’s it. But it’s a myth we continuously tell ourselves.
A few months ago, I read an interview with Elle Fanning, talking about Nicolas Winding Refn’s movie The Neon Demon. The movie explores ideas of objectification, death, and beauty. And, in the interview, Elle was talking about how pictures on Instagram are already dead. They’re already the past and sometimes even altered from reality. And yet we find those so beautiful and aspire to be like that.
It really spoke to me and has been rolling around the back of my mind for months. Because there’s such poignancy there. Common sense—and a few recent studies—have pointed out that couples that “over-share” their every happy experience on social media often do so to mask relationship insecurities.
Are we trying to freeze our relationships? Capture them at a time of complete balance? The arbitrary, photo-ready snapshot of homeostasis that we’ve talked already?
What about our businesses? And our homes (Trust me—mine’s not exactly photo-ready at the moment)? And our friendships? And every other container in our lives?
They aren’t lifeless objects. They’re living complexities. And that means that we are constantly creating them. Every day, we’re cultivating more vulnerability and our relationships. And building more trust in our intuition. And creating new insights in our work. And maintaining a seemingly bottomless pile of laundry in our homes.
Creation is inherently re-creation in every moment. Hell, I’m not even the same person I was when I started writing this. I’ve shed some skin cells. And grown some new ones. And exchanged oxygen and carbon dioxide. And am constantly creating as I move through life.
Because creation is life-force. Without it, we’d be dead. Without it, our relationships, businesses, homes—whatever—would be dead.
We are constantly evolving. Changing our definitions of what a successful business might look like. Creating and re-creating beautiful containers. Giving too much and too little as we find our own homeostasis—our own balance in action.
We are alive. We’re always alive. And, if we’re not happy with some of our containers, we’re never stuck. We can create. And re-create. And destroy then create some more. Even when everything feels so fixed, it’s really just our fear of re-creating that’s holding us back.
What do you want to create—and keep creating—in the world right now?