Sometimes I get into these discomforting little eddies of self-doubt. Rarely do I remain stuck there for too long, but whirling around in it I still get pretty dizzy. Everything seems like too much or not enough. Like I’m too much or not enough. Or worse, both — too much this and not enough that.

I’ve caught myself lately using this same punishing metaphor to describe a number of different situations: telling people that I’m walking a razor’s edge. As if one false move, one careless instant, one sloppy mistake could send me flailing off. And now that I think about it, maybe falling off the razor wouldn’t be the worst outcome. What I’m really afraid of is landing with my full weight smack-down right on the blade, and what a painful mess that’d be…

Whether or not the image is valid, I don’t know; it’s probably little overdramatic. In any case, it definitely pumps up my anxiety, which isn’t helpful. So I’m trying to think of a different way to visualize myself when life feels like a balancing act.

I want to be bold but not belligerent. Daring but not nuts. Kind and compassionate but not without clear boundaries. Prepared but not over-rehearsed. Provocative but not offensive. Original but still intelligible.

Pick any descriptor and its opposite extreme, and I want to be poised perfectly between, like Simone Biles on the beam. Bringing just the right measure of each equality to some imagined ideal.

Somewhere between people-pleasing and “screw you.” Between full-throttle and burned-out. Dancing on the head of a pin, only the very best angels of my being. Gah — it’s unsustainable and exhausting!

Maybe the thing is to re-conceive balance. Maybe it doesn’t have to be so delicate, so danged tenuous. Not the head of pin, nor a narrow gymnastics beam, nor the edge of a razor. What if balance was wide, open, and forgiving? What if the idea of balance included, allowed, and encouraged us not just to stand tall but also to risk falling down?

Balance isn’t stasis.  Balance moves.  It adjusts, accommodates, repositions, and relates to the world around.  Sometimes it falls down, and even falls apart.

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The phrase, “the better angels of our being” has been in my head lately.

Thinking about how to navigate our hostile and divisive sociopolitical scene, I’ve been trying to appeal to my own and everyone else’s “better angels.” Practicing a remembrance that there’s good in all of us, even those with whom I strongly disagree. Calling forth what is best rather than constantly calling out everything that seems to fall short.

It’s not easy. It’s frustrating. I worry that it’s naive or foolish. But I know that the alternative — relentless outrage and upset — invariably leaves me miserable, and it feeds right back into the anxiety machine of trying to get it right, achieve the right balance of everything, judging myself and everything as either too much or not enough. So… I try. I practice.

This week, I started listening to the memoir of comedian Leslie Jones. It’s titled: Leslie F*cking Jones. I’m not very far in, but so far I’m in love. Leslie has a huge personality and presence. She describes herself as “too much” for a lot of people — too big, too black, too loud, too mouthy, too raw, too strong, too angry, too female. I related. Even as a middle-aged white man, I totally related. She tells about a lesson she gleaned from her father — another flawed human who was “too much” in his own way — who told her: “BE UNDENIABLE.”

I dig this so much! Leslie also uses the word “unapologetic,” which is another good one. But “undeniable” is really rich. It suggests resisting not only the disregard, disrespect, and ignorance of others, but also not denying ourselves. Not letting our own fears and insecurities deny us the fullness of our being. Bringing our whole selves to life.

Which brought me back to a reconsideration of those “better angels.”

Of course, I get what Abraham Lincoln was talking about when he appealed to our good angels — the noblest aspects of humanity, our most generous spirits, our values, our love. For sure, let us celebrate and nurture that which is best in all of us.

AND… I think the key to doing this in a healthy way is to acknowledge and embrace ALL the angels of our being. Not just those good-enough angels, but also the broken angels, the fallen angels, the petty angels, the too-loud-too-bossy-short-tempered-unforgiving angels. If we think we have to cast those out, denying vast swaths of Self before we can embody our best, then we’re not really at choice anymore. We’ve turned ourselves mostly into a shame.

So, yeah — I want to bring forth my best in all the ways I can.  AND — I don’t want to do that by stepping on my own neck.  I don’t want to shame myself into acceptability.  Not a lot of harmony and balance in that.  All those other angels?  The ones that are too much, too something, not enough something else?  I bet they’d grow, mature, evolve, and shine if I was a little gentler with them — those angels might, in fact, become even better angels.

I can’t wait to be with you this Sunday, angels. 10:00am at q-Staff Theatre, on the southeast corner of Broadway and Lead in East Downtown. There are accessible spots right in front of the theater for those with mobility considerations. And then also plenty of parking up and down Broadway, as well as just east on Arno and Edith. XO, Drew

©2024 Drew Groves