Weekly Words: "Stop thinking in terms of work-life balance"

"Human beings are creatures of belonging, though they may come to that sense of belonging only through long periods of exile and loneliness. Interestingly, we belong to life as much through our sense that it is all impossible, as we do through the sense that we will accomplish everything we have set out to do. This sense of belonging and not belonging is lived out by most people through three principal dynamics: first, through relationship to other people and other living things (particularly and very personally, to one other living, breathing person in relationship or marriage); second, through work; and third, through an understanding of what it means to be themselves, discrete individuals alive and seemingly separate from everyone and everything else.

These are the three marriages, of Work, Self and Other...

...We can call these three separate commitments marriages because at their core they are usually lifelong commitments and … they involve vows made either consciously or unconsciously… To neglect any one of the three marriages is to impoverish them all, because they are not actually separate commitments but different expressions of the way each individual belongs to the world...

..We should stop thinking in terms of work-life balance. Work-life balance is a concept that has us simply lashing ourselves on the back and working too hard in each of the three commitments. In the ensuing exhaustion we ultimately give up on one or more of them to gain an easier life...

...I stop trying to work harder in each of the marriages and start to concentrate on the conversation that holds them together. Instead of asking myself what more I need to do, and killing myself and my creative powers in the process of attempting to carry it out, I ask myself: What is the courageous conversation I am not having?"

- David Whyte

Damien Jurado at Brighton Music Hall

“There’s always someone affirming the significance of a song by taking a woman into his arms or by getting through the night. That’s what dignifies the song. Songs don’t dignify human activity. Human activity dignifies the song.”

— Leonard Cohen

Last summer, I became enamored with a set of songs - a paradox in sounds. Guitar chords that were stripped down, yet drumming with vibrations. An honest voice that reverberated between a haunting falsetto and a cry in the darkness. A production that somehow balanced feeling intimate with the echo of a thousand voices falling from space. 

It also didn't hurt that the new album was sprung from a dream about a guy who gets lost in the desert.

I was getting lost myself, at the time, and feeling a bit lost too. I was spending a little too long up in the air, splitting weeks between homes and feeling a general sense of vulnerability that comes with being ungrounded.

In times where balance is tested, I believe in being gentle on oneself. I also believe that art can help too.

And so, whenever I landed from my weekly flights, I'd come back to a New York City apartment that was still mine- the last standing bastion of a solitary life in transition. I'd light candles and open the windows wide, to let in the warm summer air that I missed while moving through various vestibules of artificial air. I would lie on the cold wood floor, press play on Damien Jurado's Brothers and Sisters of the Eternal Son, and feel grounded - in myself, in my current space, in the now. And over time, I began to grasp an awareness that external circumstances remain just so unless we shift perspective and see them not as the enemy, but as parts of our story in time.

On Friday, I found myself time-traveling back to that space through Damien Jurado's performance at Brighton Music Hall.

It was a small, intimate crowd, donning snow-boots, sweaters, and a connection to these sounds for reasons - unique, every one.  Acoustic versions of songs, like "Museum from Flight" and "Working Titles" from his earlier Richard Swift-produced albums, Maraqopa and Saint Bartlett, recounted earlier incarnations inspired by that mythical dream. These tracks were juxtaposed by the psychedelic visions and cosmic mysteries presented in Brothers and Sisters, and self-deprecating commentary by a typically warbling Jurado himself. 

The crowd swayed to "Silver Timothy", laughed as Jurado stumbled his way through "Ohio", and I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that I let myself be overwhelmed by emotion. Standing in the glow of a musician whose music was made meaningful, who helped move me to a place of peace - in a time where there was peace to be found -  felt like a warm embrace. And doing so, on the other side of that particular life transition, made the moment even more bittersweet. 

This wasn't the first time that I've found solace in sounds borne into my life at the right time. Music is a powerful energy, and one that disregards the onward beat of time. It can stir a memory or even trigger a change. But the key is, it move us, and if we're lucky, it does so back to a place of balance, so we can eventually move forward and press play.

(Photo by Terrance Doyle)

Friluftsliv

It's only January.

This is what people keep saying, gently reminding me that there are at least three more winter months to go in New England. I'm not a stranger to cold winters. In fact, growing up in Connecticut gave me good wintry skin against the January days that we're seeing in Boston today. But what varies now is how I interact with the cold.

As a kid, we'd play outside for hours - rain, snow or shine. In high school, if it was above fifteen degrees, we'd go for a run, bearing elements and ice. Now, when the sun rises late, and sets before five, there are days when my interaction with fresh air and daylight can be minimal. While heading to the gym can help generate an internal warmth, there's something else that can help even more - getting outside.

You've likely read stories or even experienced the concept of Friluftsliv, a Norwegian term that translates to "free air life." It's about finding a natural rhythm in natural life, and in many Scandinavian countries, it's simply part of the lifestyle that values connection to the outdoors - regardless of season or temperature.  Visit Norway explains that Friluftsliv "offers the possibility of recreation, rejuvenation and restoring balance among living things."

Spending time outdoors gives you a good overall health boost as well. It helps you take a break from the airborne germs and viruses that ramp up indoors in the winter, and can elevate your mood, self-esteem and sense of well-being. It can also benefit our long-term functional health as we age, so it shouldn't be a surprise that on the days that we walk the two miles home from work, I feel healthier, more centered and energized.

So here's a challenge: get outside for an extra twenty minutes every day next week.

Go for a winter hike. Trudge through the snow to a park and take ten good full-belly breaths of brisk air. Or, practice Frilufstliv in it's simplest form and go for a walk - at  lunchtime to get some natural light, or in the evening to walk home from work. This may be easier said than done, but it's a simple way to ensure that you get a good dose of fresh air on the days that you might otherwise not. 

See how this extra time outside in the winter improves how you feel on the inside and out, and, if you're interested, check out Charlotte Workman's documentary on Friluftsliv.