balance and the art of figure skating

i've been asked to write on the topic of balance for a friend's *secret* project. posting here now, with the intent to update once its public with further contextualization.

growing up and training as a figure skater, i see balance not as when two scales strike equilibrium, but as a constant state of being. balance is the grounding that makes all else possible, the foundation of skating and life itself.

the most basic units of skating are edges, or the angle at which the blade hits the ice during each stroke; whether the angle is upright or too far to one side or another, forward or backward, determines whether you'll leave the rink with a wet ass or wind-swept hair. a trained skater intuits the microadjustments that need to be made not only to stay balanced, but to deftly switch between directions and build on the edges with more complicated turns, loops, and curves.

perpetually fighting gravity, the body acts as a counterweight in relation to the edge, lifting the skate up and out of the ice like a yogi lifting up and out of their crown. as much weight as you have invested in one direction, you must invest in the other, and invest upwards. the result is the gliding, frictionless motion that makes skating travel so far and so fast, and so inherently different than walking. the basic and necessary state of balance - the perfect, shape-shifting synchronization of body and blade - supports everything else that is added to it, from endless spins to fast footwork to gravity-defying jumps.

losing balance isn't an option on the ice, and it has never felt like an option in my life. the need for balance - to stay up, to keep all parts of myself together and supporting one another - is what drove me to be as intense a student as i was an athlete and social butterfly, and, on a literal level, to pursue both the beautiful art of figure skating and to play on a hockey team. each time i stepped onto the ice it was like i was able to reset to the center, never becoming more aggressive than graceful or vice versa. my skating - hockey and figure - has become a sort of grounding metaphor for my identity and the way i see myself in the world. growing up, i saw others as more opinionated and defined; they seemed to have a singular raison d'etre which allowed them to fit a mold, to make sense, to know what table they were going to sit down at for lunch. torn between groups, people, teams - i thought that my identity had just been late to bloom.

in my adult life, i now see that who i truly am has been there all along. i am now at peace with the fact that i cannot be easily defined in one way or another, rough or graceful, wild or disciplined; rather, i am most comfortable when at the center of various extremes. ive learned to embrace the unique fluidness or 'bothness' that has allowed me to be as ardent a free spirit as i am a professional, as open as i am responsible, as coquettish as i am emotionally intelligent. my identity is not mutually exclusive.

in relationships, in scholarship, and as a professional, my worldview starts from a place of knowing the world is not black or white, and if it seems so, then it is not the whole picture. truth, to me, is like balance: it is supported with both sides of the story. i owe it to skating that this notion of balance is innate within me, a constant state of being that supports both the contradictions that exist in my life and that exist within the world. it has granted me the ability to see that everyone has a point, to be generous with others and their ideas; to host a technicolor, shape-shifting notion of truth. balance, when applied to skating and to life, is what makes beauty possible.

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