#023 - Balance - Pt. 1

JULY 2021

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything, and I know that is a great way to start. It’s funny how time can get away from you or, better yet, how getting into a creative headspace can take some time. Right now, I only feel like writing because I did nothing for two solid days, followed by another two days of doing nothing. Now, on the fifth day, when I am supposed to be back to the grind, I feel the writer’s nudge and not wanting to miss out on the opportunity I have taken to write. It satisfies and fills the wants and needs in my life to do something creative. I used to call it being an artist, but now I see myself as a creator - not knowing what the topic of this newfound creation will become.

Blame God for creating humans and blessing our species with creativity.

I could start where I left off in my spiritual journey, recall a recent accident in which I was involved - or recount the numerous things I have achieved or accomplished in the past year. At the time of this writing, Covid is something everyone is dealing with uniquely. This is America, after all. I realized recently that we live in a country of halves. A country that is as bipolar in its actions as the attitude it instills in its citizens. The duality that exists is existence in America in the very sense of the word. 

I had a friend of mine declare recently and quite triumphantly that “Balance is a lie!” They went on to say that there was no such thing as balance, and those who pursued such goals were on a quest with no end. In truth and fact and case and point, and in my personal opinion, I would agree with the latter half of the previous sentence. Because balance is a struggle as personal as it is eternal and can be a grueling and lifelong quest. Those who strike healthy balances between the good and the bad or really any other dualities of life become well-adjusted and happy people. Those that do not- Who’s to say if they will not become unbalanced? If not already so.

A well-balanced person could seem wishy-washy or like someone who plays in the city but lives in the country. To explain further, perhaps a story from my personal life, but before that, there’s the famous idiom about being open-minded but brainless: “Do not be so open-minded that your brains fall out.” The quote itself has been attributed to several scholars since the 1600s - so I can say that it seems to be a recurring theme throughout history. So, for today’s rambling, we dive deep into the world of balance and how it helps, how it hurts, and what to do if you need more balance in your life - myself included. 

Meeting the Ambassador.

Around the time of a horrific accident involving myself, a semi-truck, and three other cars, the details of which I feel are better suited for another journal (Just know I survived miraculously), I was doing this show for an organization that provided job training and money to impoverished areas of the world. One of their co-founders was the Atlanta legend and ambassador Andrew Young. Fun fact: I was briefly enrolled at the School of Policy Studies that he is named after at Georgia State University.

Back to the story: I’m the manager for this gig on behalf of the production company I work for, and the first day of this massive show is the day of my accident. Not to mention, I promised my client that my bestie Lee and I would shoot an important interview for them. This interview was for the organization with the current CEO, John Hope Bryant, who was mentored by Andrew Young. They would be talking about the history of Civil Rights. NBD.

Also, to add to the inherent mess, we underquoted the show to get the business to begin with, and no one else could do this as cheaply as promised. That is unless I somehow pulled myself together and got back to work. At least, this is what I’m thinking as I’m lying in bed the day after the accident, how I have to show up the following day and shoot this interview with Lee. A promise is a promise. Southern pride and all. 

So I take some extra strength Tylenol and ride to the other side of Atlanta for this gig. It’s Saturday, so traffic is light, but it is only two days after my accident, so I’m having severe PTSD. Luckily, I would trust Lee with my life, so I’m at ease with him driving but overall apprehensive. We show up and set up for the interview, and the whole time, my body is sore, to the point where standing is a struggle. The overall lesson was slowly becoming to slow down and breathe, and also how it nearly killed me to get the show to this point. All of this culminated with me standing behind a camera covered with scrapes and bruises about to film an interview that would shape my perspective for the rest of my life.

I promise this all concerns balance, so stick with me. Lee and I wrap the interview after we exhaust our batteries and SD cards, and as the highest-ranking production team member, I’m doing my due diligence by thanking our esteemed guests. But I pull a Taylor and get long-winded, something I am well known for. My dad says we all have "the gift of the gab."

OTP vs ITP - an Atlanta thing.

This is when I say something that I will never forget. Ambassador Young asked me where I was from his well-known and commanding baritone voice. I think he knew I was trying too hard - I tend to overdo it in stressful social situations - and I had been rambling about what an honor it was to film this interview. I remember thanking him for his actions to advance Civil Rights for all people, not just African Americans. Very rarely do you ever get to meet such people and witness such things, and perhaps I was a bit overly thankful.

So he asked me where I was from—a common question. I said Alabama, though I grew up in Atlanta. He then played a card with which I’m all too familiar. His follow-up question was, what street did I grow up on? I hesitated and remember hanging my head in shame.

“I grew up in Snellville,” I answered coyly.  

My fate was sealed then, and this 83-year-old man had taught me a valuable lesson. He had called my bluff, a poker check. My pride was a bit hurt. I’m stubborn, and I began to reflect stubbornly. During this stubborn reflection, I realized that Snellville was Atlanta and that without Atlanta, I would not have grown up in Snellville.

Furthermore, my family and I spent our hard-earned money at the Braves games and going to the World of Coke. We would take MARTA to local music, festivals, special events, and fireworks shows. My childhood was spent seeing Broadway shows at the Fox and visiting my aunt at Two Peachtree. Though we didn’t live downtown or ITP as we call it here, it was as if we lived worlds apart, and throughout the late 20th century, this paradigm was true. Something that I forgot in that moment and something of which Ambassador Young reminded me.

But still, the stubborn thought persisted as most stubborn things do. My childhood saw the Olympics, the revitalization of downtown, and the spirit of the New South that Andrew Young and others like him pioneered. He’s got a freaking street named after him! This guy and several others brought international recognition to the city and suburbs I call home.

So was my assumption that Atlanta is home, though I live in Snellville, a byproduct of my suburbs entitlement? Or is it perhaps I posit that Atlanta must give into the idea that we are all of us in one region in order to both simplify things economically and also to provide the best possible product for the people?

The suburbs support the city that supports the suburbs, and this urban cycle funds intercity growth and new development opportunities for their neighborhoods. Something in which organizations like Hope Global specialize.  

 The middle of this thought and the story's point is the balance between the city and the surrounding area—a symbiosis.  A personal lesson from this is that I should say I grew up right outside of Atlanta. I was and still am an onlooker like most suburbanites. But my generation is changing the city landscape, and the generations after us are changing even more.

Work and home are balancing acts, and those who live in the country but play in the city do not truly live in the city. Boy, did I ever figure that out the hard way?