Practicing the Art of Titration to Create a Life of Balance
Taking intentional steps to return to my default way of human-ing.
I’ve made it an accidental habit to always be in a hurry. It’s a side effect of being around people who are in constant motion.
This was accelerated by a summer chasing endless days of sunlight. People convinced me that what felt to me like an unsustainable pace was sustainable because the shift into colder seasons would slow the pace and bring balance. But, it hasn’t. On the other side of the Solstice, I’m more burnt out than ever. I’ve learned that I have only myself to trust when it comes to creating a lifestyle that carries balance - without blaming the rhythm of the seasons.
It’s been a difficult lesson to learn, and has taken far too much time, but it’s one that supports my stubborn belief that if something is going to last long-term, it must be sustainable. Otherwise, it will shatter to pieces.
When life is naturally accelerated, that’s when it’s most important to create space for slowness. And those are moments that hold the most power, because we put our foot on the brakes of intention to pull ourselves out of the stream of the masses.
For those who chase the sun, I have a challenge for you. Don’t let the seasons control you. Find ways to keep your momentum through slower months wrapped in darkness. The rhythm of the earth should not be a scapegoat. Moving at your own pace is a way to take back your power and eradicate FOMO.
There is joy to be felt in all expressions of the seasons, and its foolish to compare throughout the year when the shifts are inevitable.
One of the lessons this year has felt ironic. The more packed life is, the faster it disappears before your eyes. The adventures slip through your fingers. Life slows down when there is space to reflect and integrate experiences.
You need space to consciously think about your life, lest you spend it on a treadmill of familiarity. Even when that familiarity is anchored in discomfort and chosen challenges.
The greatest compliment I’ve ever received is a reflection of intentionally creating space between activities and obligations: that my presence was soothing and I never felt to be in a rush.
Simply because: I wasn’t.
To be in a rush is to be out of alignment.
Titration was carefully built into my day.
Scientifically speaking, titration is the process in which one solution is added to another solution (… etc.). When applied to the way you live your life, I think of it like this. You slowly change your state of being to energetically match the next activity on the agenda. For example: When I was a regular member at Yogashakti in Stockholm, I would take at least 15 minutes after class to write in my journal and drink tea. Coming out of a calming yoga practice, I took time to activate myself slowly, so that stepping out the door into a capital city was less jarring on the nervous system.
I’ve always created buffers between activity - allowing space to breathe and room for flexibility. Life is unpredictable and to stack minute on top of minute creates stress and constraint. And if not? Well, I’ve always been suspicious of those resistant to sitting still. I know it too well: what are you running away from?
This is something I feel deeply not only in my personal life, but in the way I curate my work. I’ve never understood how coaches can stack clients one minute after the other. And I don’t think it’s fair to the clients - time and space allow us to digest, recharge, and show up at our best capacity. I say this specifically about a coaching practice, but this is true across a spectrum of people-oriented services.
After today’s mountain bike ride, I felt pulled into the forest. Rather than packing up to speed back home, I took some moments to wander into the woods. I found a pocket between two grandmother tree trunks to curl into and let my eyes absorb the vibrant shades of green, shifting into belly-deep box breathing.
Letting go of any need to be somewhere, I let myself sink into the forest and bathe myself in the cedar and moss.
Inhale peace, exhale stress.
Without restraint, my mind wandered and I took ample time to write down my thoughts. A reminder of the potency of creativity that comes from the generation of movement doused in nature.
I know too well the urge to get home to write where it’s comfortable and convenient, only to discover the muse stayed behind in the woods. Well, who can blame her? As much as I want my most creative writing to stream through my fingers onto a typewriter or the paper pages of my notebooks, nuggets of wisdom most often come when I’m away from either of those things and have only my phone with me.
Rather than try to force the ideal medium, it seems best to listen whenever and wherever the whispers come. Maybe I’m finally learning.
Creating these pockets of spaciousness is a way of being that used to be my default mode of human-ing.
It feels good to start the year coming back (and looking forward) to that practice - to slow down and create space in between. Walking an intentional balance between hard work and the nourishment of stillness.