Balancing Energies
When I talk with folks about Life Balance, I get the impression that most of us focus on balancing “tasks,” meaning the things we do in our lives—whether we’ve intentionally taken them on or feel they’ve been thrust upon us.
That’s certainly fine; indeed, it’s a good starting point for most people.
However, I’ve recently realized that there’s another way to think about creating and maintaining Life Balance: Think in terms of balancing energies and not balancing tasks.
In truth, this concept is ancient with its roots deep in the pre-history of Eastern thought. The near-universal and perhaps clearest expression of it exists in the theosophical construct of “yin-yang.”
Yin-yang describes extreme polar energies along a continuum. It’s really one thing, not two, which is why the Chinese phrase has no “and” between the words.
The term expresses the Two making up the One. For instance, winter is the yin while summer is the yang, the “Two” extreme polar energies of the “One” year.
Yin-yang is represented by a symbol familiar all over the world. (That’s it on the right, if this is new to you.) The theosophy is so important in Asian culture that the yin-yang symbol adorns the flag of South Korea.
My recent realization came while I was discussing the consulting work I’ve been doing with a local government agency with a colleague. The client has employed me steadily for over two years. The length of the assignment has permitted me to see trends in the ebb and flow of energies that I otherwise would not have seen had the engagement been of a shorter duration.
Purely by chance, that conversation with my friend took place within a day of an inflection point along the client’s path to its future. As I looked for the right words to describe what I was feeling, I discovered that the best ones were part of the language of energy.
For the first year I was there, the agency was improving systems, communications, and processes. There was a lot of talking by senior management and by me—something most would identify as “yang” in nature. Yang energy is hard, fiery, hot, fast, restless, excitable, and corresponds to day in Eastern theosophy.
During the second year, however, the place was turning into itself like some organizational chrysalis as it prepared for several major concurrent and inter-related pending changes, including the integration of its services with another government agency and a top-to-bottom reorganization. People were overwhelmed and, frankly, a little worried—they were also working extraordinarily long hours in severely understaffed conditions. There was a lot of listening by senior management and by me—something most would characterize as “yin.” Yin energy is soft, liquid, cold, slow, tranquil, gentle, and corresponds to night.
Then, suddenly, all of that impending change came down precipitously like a heavy curtain on July 1, which was the first day of the new fiscal year. The organization’s execution was spot-on; overall, it and the people in it did extraordinarily well.
On the day of the conversation with my colleague, while I was still at the agency, I realized that the energy was changing again to keep things in balance, and it was necessary that it do so to keep things in balance.
Clearly, everyone felt it: executives and senior managers were already asking me about how we could best get our arms around systems improvement and better communications processes. After a year of a preponderance of yin, it was time to shift back to a preponderance of yang.
More talk, less listening; more yang, less yin—for now. It will certainly change back and forth again and again.
It’s perfect. It’s balanced.
It’s what’s going to keep the place healthy in the long term.