A Measurement of Balance

Maybe - what if - the world could go on without so much of a sigh if our lives ended right now?

If a tree falls in a forest without making a sound, does it exist?

What if our inner turmoils, all our struggles, all these pain - what if all these really mean nothing? What if we're just, most of the time, struggling needlessly?

Let go, let go.

A voice in my head tells me.

Let go, gently.

Perhaps that's a little too zen for people like us. We grow up in the city, we think like the city, we weep like the city.

Maybe this is not my city, as much as I belong to a city.

In Eat Pray Love Elizabeth Gilbert craved balance. In the midst of all that she had - money, a husband, a house, an apartment, a magazine job - she wanted only balance. The other night as I opened my kitchen drawer and took out a fork carefully, 'delicate balance' popped into my head. An unlikely moment to have prompted these two words, but it did.

Afterwards I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Delicate, balance. It means, I think, carrying the same weight on either side of you. Symmetry, in which two mirror images perfectly mimic each other. It is the opposite of chaos, for it is logical and neat. One plus one equals to two. Simple, indisputably..... real.

Now that's what we should be looking for, right?

By now we should have realized how unbalanced we are, and how difficult it is to find that balance.