We visited friends a while ago. Ben loves the sea. He has a sailboat and captains a research vessel for a local college part of the year.
He told me about a couple he met during his travels. The guy also loved sailing, and could spend his life at sea. But he married a woman who doesn't share his dreams. She can tolerate living on a boat--just--but hates to go to sea.
Ben said that over time, this couple reached a perfect, delicate balance. They would plot out courses to different Carribean ports. The distance would be just enough that the guy could enjoy the trip. But not at sea so long that his wife couldn't bear it.
They stay at each port long enough for her to regain her bearings. And then, just when HE can't stand it any longer, they head out to sea again.
They had done this for years. It works for them.
I said, "And that's what marriage is. Some of us just do it with a boat."
I've been thinking about that story for days now. It seems like a good metaphor for all kinds of relationships.
I'm struggling with balance with my art and business. Today I realized there is more than one balance point to find.
With my fiber work, I have several exciting new ideas to pursue, but work there has come to a standstill. Why?
I kept thinking I was "blocked" or stuck. But it's not as simple as that.
My jewelry, which was getting repetitive a few years ago, took amazing leaps forward this year--new animals, new designs, new techniques. I put a lot of energy into that area, and it paid off at my big retail show last month. I sold a LOT of jewelry, and a lot more expensive jewelry.
My writing, once stalled, gained momentum. I wrote a book. I now write a regular column for Crafts Business magazine. And I'm more disciplined about a daily habit of writing, whether it's blogging, journaling, or writing articles.
I'm teaching more--not my art techniques, but professional development skills. In addition to teaching at various art centers, I'm now on the faculty of the Arts Business Institute.
Public speaking played a bigger role. I addressed audiences at regional and international conferences last year, with a passion and focus I've never felt before. I enjoyed it immensely.
I tried to free up time for the fiber work. I actually took a sabbatical from a major wholesale show I've done for over five years now. I wanted to take a step back and rethink the way I make my art and market it.
But then I got accepted into a big, prestigious show. I felt I couldn't pass on the opportunity--and there I was, back in "get ready for the show" mode.
So my jewelry evolved, my talents as a speaker grew by leaps and bounds, and I'm slowly building a modest repuation as a writer. I juried into a top-tier retail show, and ready to try a brand new show targeting a whole new audience.
But my fiber work faltered. The new tribal shield series sits on my table, the new artifacts lie in trays, waiting to be put together. And there they are today, waiting, waiting....
In the meantime, family life goes on. I have a child leaving home for the first time, and another one entering high school. My husband's career seems poised to take off in an entirely new direction. It's a constant struggle for both of us to cover for the other when one of us is gone or on a major deadline.
It sometimes feels like I'm holding the reins of a runaway horse when it comes to family and home life. Forget home-cooked meals and House Beautiful roomscapes, last week we cleared some counters in the kitchen and a friend (a GUY at that) commented with WAY too much enthusiasm, "Hey, you guys cleaned!"
So many pieces of the puzzle to put together. Pick up three pieces, drop two. Pick up a handful--and drop the box. That's what my professional life has felt like.
Now I realize that will change. Someday, the house will be neat but empty of children. The fiber work will surge forward--but the jewelry will suffer. Or maybe the writing, or the teaching.
Because we cannot have it all. Or at least, not all at the same time.
Finding that delicate balance point is more like finding TEN balancing points--a whole slew of spinning plates on sticks.
Does this sound whiny? Probably. Like I have my priorities out of whack? Maybe. But it's reassuring, somehow, too. I know now that the fiber work will take the lead again, someday. Even if, to let the fiber surge ahead, something else will have to be put on hold.
Hmmm....maybe...housecleaning? Nah. That's hit bottom already.
