For a while, I have been playing with this idea that balance is different than I learned it was. Balance is a verb. What most people think of as balance is actually equilibrium:

Equilibrium refers to a state of balance where opposing forces, influences, or processes are in a stable condition with no net change over time.

And specifically, when they say balance, they really mean static equilibrium, like sitting in a chair. You are at rest, and you still stay that way until something or someone comes along and causes you to move.

While this might sound ideal and restful, there is a feature of equilibrium that is often overlooked. It is vulnerable. If you’re sitting in a chair, someone can sneak up behind you and tip you over with little effort.

Balance, or dynamic equilibrium, however, is effortful. It is an active process and more closely mirrors how our bodies and our brain actually function. Standing on one foot is an act of balance. The two hemispheres of our brain, the rods and cones in our eyes, even our two feet are constantly in a dance of competitive cooperation. They push on each other and test each other to create better answers and better results.

My theory is that by becoming aware of this dynamic dance of life, I can live a more satisfying life instead of lamenting or resenting that my life is not effortlessly “balanced.”

Not only do I not get static equilibrium for free, I am beginning to believe I don’t want it. I am beginning to see life as a dance, where my goal is to find the sweet spot between leading and being led.

For my part, one of those domains is how to balance my beliefs in faith and my beliefs in engineering. Now I am not talking about atheism vs. Jesus, but more, where do I find useful, practical information on how to best live?

Faith, for example, is the belief in the absence of proof. In some absolutely sense, that sounds like a recipe for willful stupidity. However, I have found in raising children that having faith is extremely valuable. Why should you not believe they can learn to do something before they have proven they can do it? Or that they can become someone awesome before they have proven it? Waiting for proof can be a life-sapping, cynical, and frankly miserable way to live.

However, and here’s the balance, it is also unwise to just take everything on faith and never look for proof. This is what makes it a balance, or “balancing act”, literally an act of balance.

And I find this function is the kind of problem that our body and our brain— which together make a mind— are extremely adept at solving for. We literally are walking disambiguation engines. The senses flow information into the brain while the body also transmits its current status, and together, those signals are blended together to determine best outcomes and courses of action.

The real magic comes from the third source, our lived experience, which can help guide what we are seeing and feeling, shaping what we see, hear, and feel while also being shaped by those same signals.

I have come to understand that certainty is a feeling, not a fact, and we crave it so desperately because it is highly correlated with the moments when all three of our core mental processing systems align— the feeling that accompanies our “moment of recognition,” we label certainty. And it feels good!

It feels so good, in fact, we can often use that feeling as our objective instead of the outcome. We chase certainty, revising our memories and beliefs trying to make reality fit the model that makes us feel “most certain.” We have names for these cognitive artifacts; we call them biases, and the big two are:

  • Confirmation Bias (I see what I believe)
  • Desirability Bias (I only look for what I believe)

The third amigo that often accompanies these two, especially in our modern knowledge economy, is my personal favorite, the “I’m not Biased Bias.” The “smarter” you are, the more likely you are to fall prey to this cognitive artifact. It basically makes it harder for you to believe that you could make a mistake.

In psychological experiments, the people with the highest IQ’s performed the worst in cognitive tests where they were presented with disconfirming evidence which contractures a cherished core belief. In other words, they were more stubborn, and more resistant to change, and less likely to accept proof that their belief needed revision, than people who had a lower IQ.

Uncertainty, like being off balance, is uncomfortable, largely because it requires effort. However, there are gifts that come from dynamic equilibrium or active balance.

Visualize the athlete who stands on their balls of their feet. With their knees bent, feet shoulder-width apart, head up, hands out just above the waist in that classic “athletic” or “gunfighter stance." They are extremely stable. Imagine a basketball player on defense, or a gunfighter, or a softball player on the infield the moment before the ball is hit. Ponytails and ribbons aside, that girl is ready for what is about to happen next.

This is a moment of optimal “balance,” opposing forces in tension to keep a dynamic system in a state of preparation to make a move.

And to me, that feels like a dance, specifically the tango. Sometimes I move, sometimes, live moves.

And here is where I see the pattern repeat.

Oliver Burkeman in his book 4,000 Weeks, and Meditations for Mortals talks about slowing down, focusing on fewer projects, and recognizing the moments when you will lose control over your day and to welcome those with open arms.

Reading Thich Nhat Hanh, or Pema Chödrön. They talk about being extremely present to life, and receiving whatever happens. You move, but you also pay attention. You give, and you receive life.

Reading Jesus Calling by Sarah Young, she is inspired to write, “Spend time with me before you begin your day, worrying about nothing.”

Michael A. Singer’s Surrender experiment. You listen to where life wants to lead you, then you have to go.

And my own father’s lovely, “Dumb Luck Theory”. You set an intention, get in motion, then pay attention.

All of these touch on a similar theme, the balance between living out into the world through intention and action, but also receiving from the world what arises and some level of trust and faith that it will work out.

For me, they all embody three principles, or they combine to create one animating “spirit”, the spirit of adventure and generativity. They embody humility (I am paying attention, listening, watching, and I’m not in control), faith (but I believe that good can come from this), and courage (I will act in accordance with my faith).

My faith directs my actions, my courage empowers my efforts, and my humility informs my faith and beliefs. This cycle creates a kind of dynamic balance, an athletic position of heart, mind, and soul, if you will.

Who am I writing this to? Myself, I suppose. I am looking for patterns and clarifying my own thoughts and beliefs. I am constantly seeking and revising the answer to my question, how to best live in this life.