Expanding Our Grip
As a kid, I was fascinated with juggling.
There were so many different things you could juggle. Balls, clubs, knives, even fire—which, of course, was my favorite. But what really captured my imagination was trying to juggle things that weren't the same.
Rubber balls and eggs for example.
One would bounce if I dropped it.
The other...well...Mom would not be very happy with me.
And she wasn't - but she indulged her boy that was always exploring the limits of what he could do.
I remember trying to hold them all before tossing them into the air. Three was usually my limit. But every time I reached for one more, I'd squeeze a little tighter, lose focus, and before I knew it, everything was on the ground.
The rubber balls would bounce away.
The eggs would break.
As I got older, I realized I never really stopped juggling.
The only thing that changed was what I was trying to keep in the air.
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Life isn't just about juggling time, commitments, and emotions.
It's also about juggling priorities.
And maybe even more importantly, understanding that not everything we hold carries the same weight.
Not everything is made of rubber.
Some things are eggs.
When I was a kid, that simply meant cleaning up the kitchen floor and listening to Mom remind me that eggs weren't toys - to me they still are I have a few other eg tricks up my sleeve!
As an adult, the stakes feel a little different.
When I talk to the person checking me out at the grocery store, I want to leave them feeling a little lighter than when I found them.
But when I talk to my daughters, I know my words carry a different kind of weight.
Those moments feel more fragile.
They have a way of lingering - a sense of importance.
A sentence spoken carelessly can stay with someone for years, while a simple act of kindness can become something they carry for the rest of their life.
Being relatively new to helping raise daughters, I still find myself wondering if I'm saying the right thing or doing the right thing.
Sometimes I worry that I'll drop one of the eggs.
But maybe that awareness isn't weakness.
Maybe it's love.
Maybe recognizing that something is fragile is exactly what teaches us to hold it with greater care.
And yoga, in many ways, teaches us about discernment.
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Life is always going to ask us to juggle our time, our commitments, our resources, and our relationships. I don't think the goal is to somehow arrive at a place where there is only one thing demanding our attention - that is one of the byproducts of meditating and I enjoy those moments where I can attempt to be with one thing only but that is another practice.
This practice of "juggling" is learning to recognize what requires more care.
What deserves more attention.
What needs more understanding.
In yoga, we sometimes speak of Right Action—not simply doing what is easy or convenient, but asking ourselves,
"What is being called for in this moment?" Cultivating that is another byproduct of meditating and mindfulness activities.
Because the fact of the matter is that life will always hand us a mixture of eggs and rubber balls.
Discernment is what allows us to know the difference.
And maybe that's only the beginning.
Because whenever we are juggling something, we first have to be able to hold it.
As a kid, I could usually manage three objects. Reach for a fourth, and everything came crashing down.
But over time, our hands become stronger. Our dexterity improves. Our capacity grows.
Perhaps that is part of growing older.
Not simply learning to juggle more things...
...but learning to expand our grip.
To safely and securely hold the things that are fragile and need more care—the egg—while also recognizing that some things can be dropped, bounce, and be picked back up again—the ball.
And maybe this isn't just true for the things outside of us.
Maybe it is true for the things inside of us as well.
Just as our hands can learn to hold both the egg and the ball, our hearts can learn to hold two seemingly opposite experiences at the same time.
Joy and sadness.
Fear and courage.
Love and disappointment.
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So often we think one must disappear before the other can arrive.
That somehow joy has to wait until sadness is finished.
Or courage cannot exist until fear is gone.
But perhaps that isn't how life works at all.
Perhaps maturity, and maybe even wisdom, is realizing that both can be present.
I can grieve and be grateful.
I can miss someone and still celebrate them.
I can be uncertain about tomorrow while remaining deeply committed to today.
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Maybe the practice is not learning how to get rid of one feeling so another can take its place.
Maybe the practice is simply expanding our grip.
And yoga offers one final piece of wisdom.
Beneath all the things we juggle, there is a part of us that isn't actually being tossed into the air.
The emotions move.
The circumstances move.
The relationships move.
The joys rise.
The sorrows fall.
But there is something beneath all of it that simply witnesses the dance.
Some call it Sat Cit Ananda.
Maybe a more accessible phrase is unconditioned love.
That quiet place within us that can look outward and say:
Yes sadness, there is a place for you here.
Yes joy, there is a place for you here.
Both of you can be held at the same time.
Oh, and you know a little spilled milk and a few cracked eggs can make one delightful meal!
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PS. Did you know when you are practicing the skills of yoga like postures, breathing, balance, mindfulness, and meditation you are increasing your capacity for discernment and right action. It may seem like we have to ACTIVELY work on the “knowing” what is right and true, but I feel these are powerful byproducts of simply doing our yoga. Yoga takes so many forms. You may be doing “yoga” and not even know that you are. If you are curious about this, drop me a line. I would love to show you how yoga can be so much more than you might think.
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Danny
The Emotional Driver
“Emotion Is the Note. You Are the Song.”
