I’m thinking about whether or not balance is actually achievable while sitting at my analog desk.
And, yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like; a desk on the other side of my office for all things non-digital. For example, that’s where my typewriter lives. But, right now, I’m folding zines and thinking about balance. These zines are freebies from Austin Kleon as a thank you for pre-ordering his new book, Don’t Call It Art. Which seems like one of the best modern marketing promos I’ve come across in a while. They’re full of passages, sketches, and stories that didn’t make the final cut, but that still support the contents of the book.
Brilliant.
Anyway, I’m folding and folding, and the anticipation is growing... I’m wondering what kind of stuff Austin liked so much that he found a way to publish it even if after his editor axed it from the book. And, ok look, I was the kid who never tried to sneak a peek of Santa because I wanted to be surprised on Christmas morning, ok? I wanted to believe, not be proven wrong. And yet, I was also the kid who refused to see the movie until he’d read the book because he wanted to have all the facts in order to audit the temerity of any creative license taken by the film.
In that regard, some things never change.
Finally, I set down my bone folder and start flipping through the small stack of zines where I find this passage referencing Adam Moss, who wrote The Work Of Art. It talks about how art requires a balance of play and rigor in almost equal measure. And I’m sitting there reading and re-reading the quote.
He goes on to say “[when there’s] too much of the child, and your work has no structure. Too much adult and the thing has no fire.” That, I like. It’s where he says “so this crazy middle ground... is somehow where you have to live” that trips me up.
So I lean back in my seat. I’m thinking about past chapters of my life and whether or not I’d achieved the ever-elusive balance of play and rigor that Moss is talking about.
And I’m stuck.
The part of the quote that talks about having to live in the crazy middle ground... I don’t know if I fully agree with that. Because, I can confidently say, believing I could find that balanced middle ground has only ever made things worse for me. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s the recipe for burnout. At least, that’s what’s been present each and every time that I’ve burnt out.
I lean forward, perching my elbows on the surface of my analog desk and resting my chin in the crook of my hand between my thumb and index finger. My eyes snap out of their far-away-gaze and return to the stack of zines in front of me. I let out a slow sigh and shake my head. Reflecting on my own journey, I can’t find anything to disprove my hunch. And I want to be wrong. I’ve long wished I could achieve balance; that I could attain and maintain it. But, looking back, everything points to balance as something that’s not meant to be achieved, only pursued.
Aiming for balance helps me get closer than if I don’t.
To me, I see play and rigor like opposite sides of the same teeter-totter. And the whole point of a teeter-totter is the back and forth; the up and down.
It requires constant motion.
Our Daily MAP Year Prompt
245/365
Is balance something you achieve or something you pursue?
onward.
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