At the risk of pulling you off your train of thought, your monk statement made me laugh and then think this: generally speaking, a life of temperance and moderation does not appeal to me. In this post, I’m addressing the very specific balance (or lack thereof) between connection and solitude. I do struggle with this one and wish I could find a more consistent middle ground. But, in more general terms, I’m not really worried about balance. Though I find the idea of it fascinating, I’d rather, in practice, ride Travis’s roller coaster, I think.

That said, I LOVE your last paragraph. Well, the penultimate paragraph, actually (but the last one did rock my bloggy world). I think you’re right. I think whatever balance we can achieve can only be assessed by looking at the whole. I tend to get caught up in the measuring of things, real time. One could (and should) argue that the whole act of measuring is counterproductive… but certainly, in the short term day-to-day, it’s stress-making effect isn’t worth my trouble.

And just like that, I feel better! It’s like we just had a therapy session on ZS. Thanks, Dr.

Sometimes I think that my definition only works if I stand back far enough, because so many of my days seem unbalanced. I think that’s part of what I hear you saying – that our days are too short and to few to waste them trying to make every one of them “balanced”. It’s impossible, yeah?

Maybe the way we’re supposed to measure the balance in our lives is from the view provided by a (very) long period of time. “Over a long enough timeline, the chances of survival are zero for everyone.” Maybe over a long enough timeline, just shy of that survival-failure point, the chances of achieving balance improve though. Maybe that’s (more than) good enough.

This was a beauty, j. Hell, they all are, but this one is wonderfully contemplative and open.

Vulnerability and shame are huge topics, bigger than I can cover in a comment. I agree that the reasons we choose to connect or withdraw can be very complicated, and that a willingness to be (or an aversion to being) vulnerable may lie at the heart of most of them.

That said, as complicated and fucked up as we all are, I think Susan Cain has it right – we wrestle with our own duality, our very real needs for both connection and solitude. Accepting that both are absolutely necessary to our well being is probably about as close to “balance” as we’re all likely to come.

… I think. :)

2. The crazy thing is that I think I can do it – the firefly pose. I’m seriously thinking… with a whole year to nail it, I’m sure I can accomplish this. Famous last words? ;-)

I LOVE you rambly! (And every other way.) xo

There is a grasping quality to our interactions when our well gets empty, a need to impress or seem interesting, a need to be loved and validated. Or, the opposite can happen too – that we pull away from everyone rather than admit we feel lesser or personally unfulfilled. That feeling of personal emptiness, of a life not fully lived is at the root of both actions, I think, the pulling away and the grasping need to connect… at least it has been for me.

And remember this, sweetie. You can lose all sense of perspective when you hibernate. Without anyone to bounce things off of, everything seems big and potentially insurmountable. Sometimes it helps to know that you’re not the only one feeling your feelings. xo

You are likely familiar with the talk, but if not, I’m referring to Brené Brown’s talk on vulnerability. She talks so much about how we connect with each other. And how we disconnect.

When we disconnect to avoid something painful, it is actually like we are getting off the roller coaster I mentioned in my previous comment. Without the pain and sorrow and aloneness, we have no means of feeling the happiness and joy and connection.

A few select quotes:

“Shame is the fear of disconnection. Is there something about me that if other people know it or see it, that I won’t be worthy for connection.”

But shame is different from pain and hurt. Pain and hurt are natural and part of the up and down roller coaster. Shame is something we bring ourselves to. And, unlike the hurt and pain, they don’t carry us back up. The energy a car on a roller coaster gets to climb a hill comes from the racing down the previous one to hit bottom. But, by embracing shame (which we all do, in so many ways), it’s like we put on the brakes and step off in the trough and just hang around that low point. It no longer has the power to bring you up.

“People that have a strong sense of love and belonging are those that believe they are worthy of love and belonging.”

Not sure what else to say about that, except for some it is difficult to start to or continue to believe they are worthy of love and belonging. Their vision becomes myopic, they lose the periphery, They can’t see the next peak, or even the upward slant of the road. How one cultivates this belief, I’m not sure.

A final two quotes that hint at the answer, I think. We must find courage (which is different from bravery). Isn’t this what you write about in your Love Manifesto, j? “which is not about being fearless, but about loving through the fear”? And, finally, authenticity, sincerity, embracing your whole self, demons and all, is absolutely necessary to form any meaningful connection with another being.

“The original definition of courage in English was to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart.”

“…be willing to give up who they should be for who they are, which you absolutely have to have for connection.”

I thought these applied and wanted to share.