All of Life is Plate Spinning

Juggling, but make it harder.

What I love about writing a newsletter called Thriving…Sometimes is that it’s right there in the title; that we’re all (and by that I mean me) just here…figuring out how to show up for the Life-We-Want while hopscotching through the daily challenges presented to us by the Life-We-Have.

And with that…

A Story

Approximately a thousand years ago I was a college undergrad.

In this bygone era, Austin, and the University of Texas, was quite a different place from the town you may be familiar with today. The late 1990s was a golden era for Austin. While a bit sleepy and small¹, it already had cache, having carved out its distinct identity, a la “Keep Austin Weird” and “Live Music Capital of the World.” Back in the 90s, Austin was weird, and there was live music spilling out of every bar and, heck, even out of most casual restaurants. Today’s Austin is new and shiny and in many ways chasing what it was 30 years ago. (I said what I said! But I’d love dissenting opinions in the comments. Also, if you remember Y2K Austin, please share some favorite memories below.)

Back to me. I majored in Advertising at UT and one semester took a class that would stay with me long after my college career. It was a graduate-level course on Branding that they allowed a few underclassmen to join. (Underclasspersons? How do we say this now?)

The class was led by two great teachers — Deborah Morrison and Dr. Neal Burns, who went on to become my long-time mentor and friend. Deb and Neal weren’t just teaching theory, they were teaching us life. And to their attentive audience of young twenty-somethings, they served up kernels of wisdom along with the study of ionic brands.

At some point in the semester, one of the students made a comment (or likely, an excuse) that they were behind on a project but Just As Soon As they finished this project/homework/paper/whatever, then they’d have the time and mental space to equalize their stress and work load and start the next big project. Just As Soon As…

This is when Deb and Neal swooped in to drop some knowledge.

That being that: Life is just plate spinning.

Think of a novelty act where the performer places a plate on a yard-long rod, spinning it in a way that keeps the stick upright until the momentum wanes. While one plate spins, he initiates another, and another and another. Until there are maybe seven, ten?...twelve? plates spinning at a time, and he’s jumping between to tend to the ones losing speed and getting loose on their spin. Somehow he manages to keep them spinning—maybe without crashing—for some awe-inspiring amount of time. But sometimes a plate did crash.

It was stunning when it worked, sorta hilarious when it didn’t. I think this novelty act has been captivating audiences for decades because people deep down know what it feels like. Not to spin literal plates, but every day we are jumping between, tending the plates of life.

The Lesson

This, according to Deb and Neal, is life: jumping between different responsibilities each with different degrees of momentum, and each needing near constant attention and tending or else they all come crashing down.

In terms of life lessons, this was a banger. It was a very kind way for seasoned adults to educate us adults-in-training on how unrelenting daily demands are: you show up and tend to the plates you’re lucky enough to have spinning in your life—personal obligations, job responsibilities, parents, kids, friends, social groups, soccer games, presentations, work trips, book clubs, side hustles, grocery runs, baby showers hosted, conferences attended, clothes donated, emails responded to, RSVPs sent, a shred of self care dappled in, and—sometimes—sleep.

Don’t expect any of these plates to stop for you.

Don’t put off life hoping that they will.

Expect to jump in.

Acknowledge that you’ll be harried in the process. In the process of plate spinning…in the process of living life.

There will never be a time when everything comes to rest so that you can then start this next big thing. Life isn’t waiting for you to catch your breath. The plates either need tending, or they crash. You either keep them spinning or you let them fall. You jump in and add a new plate with the knowledge that there are four others that still need your attention. There’s no waiting for a moment of stillness so you can start an endeavor new and fresh within ideal circumstances. Life isn’t “ideal.” It will always throw you for a loop. We can’t foresee the loop, nor the trajectory with which it’s thrown; but we can be more prepared for them by simply understanding that there’s not going to be a time when everything stops.

Instead, catch your breath on the go.

Instead, trust yourself to jump in with one more plate even when seven others are spinning.

And, be ok with one or two falling. Know it could happen but keep your eye on the plates that are precious.

This week new plates were added that I didn’t volunteer to spin. Plate 1: a sick daughter means no daycare, which means double duty for me while working from home. Plate 2: a work presentation that wasn’t received with the accolades we’d expected (quite the opposite). Plate 3: an intricate plan, long in the works, rescheduled due to back-to-back snowstorms. Not to mention the other plates I can’t even count… a dog in a cone that needs meds, the other dog that needs meds, a house that won’t warm past 64-degrees. And more (dinners to be cooked, laundry to be done, blah, blah blah.) And of course a newsletter that goes out on Fridays that is arriving instead on a Sunday. Thankfully this was the plate that wouldn’t shatter while I cared for the others.

So, here on Substack or on social, tell me some of your unrelenting plates.

And if not here, just keep them in mind, a catalog of all that’s spinning in your life that you manage to keep going. It’s hard, it’s stressful. But look at you—you’re doing it.

(And remember: it’s ok if you let some fall.)

xx Mary

Dedicated to the memory of Neal Burns. (You are missed.)

PS: Deb, if you read this, I hope I did you justice.

1. A population of half a million at the time.