"Balance"

Apropos of nothing, I want to share a line I came across in Anna Karenina, because it creates such a beautiful image: “...and the conversation began to crackle merrily, like a blazing bonfire.” Is it any wonder that Tolstoy ranks among the best writers of fiction?

 

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In case you are wondering (though I am sure you are not), that is not me in the photo hand-standing on the chair. Nor is that me with a cigarette.

 

Sydney M. Williams

 

More Essays from Essex

“Balance”

October 4, 2025

 

“life is a balance between holding on and letting go.”

                                                                                                                                Attributed

                                                                                                                                Jalāl al-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī

                                                                                                                                13^th Century Persian Sufi mystic

 

“Don’t fall!” Those words are heard every day by older people. And for good reason. According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), falls are the leading cause of injury, and deaths from injury, among adults over 65. Balance is critical. At Essex Meadows there are a dozen exercise classes, all with the goal of improving balance. 

 

In law, balance is symbolized by Lady Justice – the rights of the accused weighed against the rights of society. For most, balance extends beyond the physical, to work, the mind and the soul. Over the past few years there has been an emphasis on life-work-balance, a revival, if you will, of the 17^th Century proverb: “All work and no play make Jack a dull boy.” However, to some there is worry that young people are less interested in hard work. The “Pepper...And Salt” cartoon in last Thursday’s Wall Street Journal (drawn by Tobias Schülert) addressed that concern. It depicted an older man behind a desk, speaking to a younger man seated before him: “It turns out that your great work-life balance is not that great for our company.”

 

But to blame the young is unfair. One has only to look at self-made young billionaires like Scale AI founders Alexander Wang (28) and Lucy Guo (30) and cryptocurrency pioneer Ed Craven (29), sports stars like Simone Biles (28) and Carlos Alcarez (22), or Taylor Swift (35). These people are singularly focused – interested in realizing the fruit of their talents.  None adhere to the maxim that each day should be divided equally between eight hours of work, eight hours of family and fun, and eight hours of sleep.

 

But for the majority, a happy life entails weighing financial needs against the love of family, the desires of our intellect, and the needs of our soul. Human Resource people speak of the “four pillars” of work-life balance: mental, physical, social, and financial, but no two people find happiness in the same way. With all due respect to Leo Tolstoy, not all happy families are alike. Instinctively we seek balance in our lives. We know we need breaks from work – the love that comes from family, food for the soul, challenges to our intellect, and the companionship of friends.

 

Life is a marathon, not a sprint, so options should be kept open; for the future is over the next rise, where the road disappears into the mist. The last few miles of one’s life should be run (or walked) with the same enthusiasm as the start. To do that, a personally-tailored life-balance is important. Thomas Edison is quoted: “Time is the only capital that any human has, and the only thing he can’t afford to lose.” So, weigh your choices. Take sensible risks. Be not afraid to fail. Question. Love. And when opportunity comes, grab it.

 

As for me, my family comes first. I revel in friends, read books, worry about financial markets, think of God, and devote some time to writing these silly essays. But I take my ski pole when walking through the woods and fields.

"Autumn Days (and Nights) with Tolstoy"

 I recognize my production of essays has abated of late, due to the holidays that consume so much of our attention – and I am happy they do. For the Hannukah and Christmas seasons are reminders of the good in life: the blessing that is ours to live where and when we do; the joy that comes in hearing from and being with family and friends; and the pleasure we get from greeting those who merrily serve us in stores and restaurants. 

 

Reading War and Peace was a gift, which will stay with me. It is not escapist, for it causes one to think in broader and deeper terms about our lives, and the story puts the silliness and sordidness of today’s politics in perspective. But, if 1500 pages seems a hill too high, try Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, in my opinion the finest novel ever written.

 

Sydney M. Williams

 

More Essays from Essex

“Autumn Days (and Nights) with Tolstoy”

December 10, 2023

 

“An historian and an artist describing our historic epoch have two quite different tasks before them. As an 

historian would be wrong if he tried to present an historical person in his entirety, in all his relations with all sides of life, so the artist would fail to perform his task were he to represent the person always in his historical significance.”

                                                                                                                                Leo Tolstoy (1828-1910)

                                                                                                                                War and Peace, Appendix, 1868

 

In the Introduction to my copy of War and Peace, the late Tolstoy scholar Reginald Frank Christian of St. Andrews University wrote: “Many years later he [Tolstoy] told Gorky [Maxim Gorky] that ‘without false modesty, War and Peace is like the Iliad…” Professor Christian added that he had “deliberately refrained from calling War and Peace a novel,” and noted that Tolstoy claimed Anna Karenina, published ten years later, to be his first novel. Tolstoy wrote about what he knew. Born into the aristocracy fifteen years after Napoleon had been pushed out of Russia, he had first-hand war experience in Crimea, where he arrived in the fall of 1854 in time for the siege of Sevastopol. What Tolstoy created in War and Peace is epic – a combination of fiction, history and philosophy – and deserves its classical status.

 

In early September, I read Peggy Noonan’s column in The Wall Street Journal, “My Summer with Leo Tolstoy.” The first thing I did, after deciding to read the book, was ditch the one-volume paperback I had purchased a few years earlier and bought a more-easily-handled three-volume set translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude. At story’s end, I empathized with Ms. Noonan’s quote of George Will, who on completing Moby Dick wrote: “To think I might have died without reading it!”

.

Tolstoy wrote of war: “On the 12^th of June 1812, the forces of Western Europe crossed the Russian frontier and war began…” “One step beyond that boundary line which resembles the line dividing the living from the dead, lies uncertainty…You fear and yet long to cross that line, and know that sooner or later it must be crossed…” He wrote of people, of four families, but especially of two individuals: Countess Natásha Rostóva, a “…strikingly poetic, charming girl, overflowing with life!” and Count Pierre Bezúkhov, a large, young, unhappily married man who searches for life’s purpose: “To that question What for? a simple answer was now always ready in his soul: ‘Because there is a God, that God without whose will not one hair falls from a man’s head.’” As well, Tolstoy pondered social, ethical, and religious concerns of the time, and he philosophized about the difficulty to understand the why of events like Napoleon’s invasion of Russia: “The higher the human intellect rises in the discovery of these purposes, the more obvious it becomes that the ultimate purpose is beyond our comprehension.”

 

At over 1,500 pages, War and Peace is daunting, but it is captivating in all aspects. Like Dostoevsky and Chekhov, Tolstoy’s characters have names difficult for American ears. But they are descriptive and credible. Readers will not soon forget Andrew’s death, Sónya’s unrequited love, nor Mary’s loyalty. To those interested in the Napoleonic Wars, Tolstoy provided a window on that era from Russia’s perspective. And for us, living in traumatic times, his questions, thoughts, and timeless wisdom on life deserve our reflection. I spent many hours with Tolstoy, and I am glad I did.

"Spring's Return"

 Today, despite being unseasonably cold, marks the first full day of spring. Its return is always a time to rejoice. In Connecticut, we have special reasons to celebrate, as yesterday the State took further steps toward normalcy.

 

 

 

Sydney M. Williams

 

Essay from Essex

“Spring’s Return”

March 20, 2021

 

“Spring work is going on with joyful enthusiasm.”

                                                                                                                The Wilderness World of John Muir, 1954

                                                                                                                Edited by Edwin Way Teale

 

In Frances Hodgson Burnett’s 1911 novel, The Secret Garden, twelve-year-old Colin Craven, who has been bed-ridden with a spinal injury, looks up from his wheelchair: “’Is the spring coming?’ he asked. ‘What is it like?’ ‘It is the sun shining on the rain and rain falling on the sunshine,’” answers his twelve-year-old cousin Mary Lennox. In Anna Karina, Leo Tolstoy, wrote, “Spring is the time of plans and projects” – a message heeded by gardeners everywhere. Spring carries us from March winds, through April’s rains, to May’s buds and June’s flowers – from seeded furrows to blossoming borders. In the Northern Hemisphere, the vernal equinox is today, when the sun, on its northward journey, crosses the celestial equator.

 

In early spring, weather is uncertain. When I was growing up, a New Hampshire slogan proclaimed March skiing to be the season’s best. A favorite memory is skiing shirtless on a warm afternoon in late March – getting high on sun and snow. Freezing nights and warm days mean Sugar Maples’ sap is running, providing one of nature’s most delicious products. Changing temperatures are endemic to spring. At the New England Society’s annual dinner in New York on December 22, 1876, Mark Twain spoke: “In the spring I have counted one hundred and thirty-six different kinds of weather inside of four-and-twenty hours.” For us, it is common to see temperatures vary by thirty degrees and more in a day. 

 

It is spring’s return, its promise of rebirth, from cold winters to warm summers, that makes the season, like Christ’s resurrection, seem magical.  Yet it is real, and its progress is inexorable. E.B. White, in Points of My Compass, wrote, “No matter what changes take place in the world, or in me, nothing ever seems to disturb the face of spring.” Following the five-day battle for Mount Belvedere in Italy’s Northern Apennines, in which 213 soldiers of the 10^th Mountain Division were killed, my father wrote my mother. Instead of death, he wrote of life: “There were crocuses in bloom on Mt. Belvedere and the view was beautiful, both day and night, a strange setting for a battle.” In Tolkien’s The Return of the King, it was the end of winter when Frodo Baggins, accompanied by Gandalf, returned to the Shire, after seventeen years of war: “Do you remember the Shire, Mr. Frodo? It’ll be spring soon. And the orchards will be in blossom. And the birds will be nesting in the hazel thicket. And they’ll be sowing the summer barley in the lower fields…and eating the first of the strawberries with cream. Do you remember the taste of strawberries?” I do. I remember picking strawberries in June, in a field next to the abandoned “Brick House,” about a half mile from our home. They hid their red faces beneath green leaves, but when found their taste, mingled with the odor of fresh meadow grass, was sweeter than anything store-bought. 

 

Springtime is for lovers, and it is not just for humans. All animal and plant life heed nature’s call. A quote attributed to Sitting Bull is a reminder of love’s universality: “Behold my friends, the spring is come; the earth has gladly received the embraces of the sun, and we shall soon see the results of their love.” Wakened from long winter nights, hibernating animals exit lairs, searching for a mate. Trees bud, and spring flowers test the air. Peepers chirp, squirrels fluff their tails and songbirds sing, while black snakes and turtles silently reappear, smiling prettily, seeking sunlight, ready to couple. 

 

But it is the love of two people that poets and playwrights celebrate: “In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love,” wrote Alfred Lord Tennyson in “Locksley Hall.” Proteus speaks In Act I of Shakespeare’s Two Gentlemen from Verona: 

 

“O, how this spring of love resembleth

The uncertain glory of an April day,

Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,

And by and by a cloud takes all away.”

 

The cloud dissipates; he and Julia wed. As did Caroline and I, on an April afternoon in 1964.

 

Perhaps it is age, but Toby Keith’s song, “Don’t Let the Old Man In,” strikes a chord: “Don’t let the old man in; get up and go outside.” Keeping the old man at a distance, we do go outdoors. The air is fresh and cool. As my wife and I walk past a pond where a beaver has been busy, across the golf course and on trails through woods and fields, life stirs. Returning birds occupy old nests or build new ones. Hawks circle, looking for field mice blinded by the sunlight. Eight days ago, we saw our first frog of the year and then our first turtle and heard our first peepers. I was reminded of when my mother would offer a nickel to the first of her children to see a turtle each spring. I put out my hand, but she wasn’t there.

 

Nevertheless, I rejoice at spring’s return.