I've been going to a hot yoga class for the last month. Before I started, it sounded like an activity reserved for yuppies, hippies, and celebrities, but I had a Groupon. And now I like it.
I'm good at the flexibility poses. In general, I'm a lot like Gumby, so it's nice for this otherwise fitness-challenged individual to feel successful for at least a portion of such a tough class. But when it comes to the balance poses, I'm a wreck. I spend half of my "tree pose" jumping around my sweaty yoga mat, attempting to keep my balance while those surrounding me turn to stone.
I know I'm new to the class, but every time a challenging pose comes up I stand there, dripping in my own sweat, thinking, I'll never do it. I'll never find my balance.
Fortunately, in the last few classes I've attended, I've noticed a few of my classmates—the women with perfect abs and personalized yoga mats—take a tumble or two as well.
Perfect balance is impossible. Even the most seasoned experts fall over sometimes.
I know I'm not alone. How many times has a close friend said to you, "I'm feeling good about ______ in my life, but I just really need to spend more time _____. I just can't seem to balance it all." We seek the idea of balance—we long for it. But do we know what it even means?
I don't think so.
I think we multitask, spend time on Pinterest pinning cute ways to organize things, feel guilty when we haven't talked to our best friend in a week, and wonder if God is angry with us for skipping church and missing quiet time last month. We are constantly living in a place of "not good enough," and we have no idea what that "good enough" actually is.1