✨KITTING AROUND✨
🌟 BLOG 362 — You Juggling? — YES! 🌟
This Video will let you know more about me–
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lr8QFnD1yGc
This Blog is Best Read on a Laptop, Rather than Your Phone.
By KIT SUMMERS — World-Class Juggler to World-Class Comeback
To Learn More about Kit, Go Here >> https://kitsummers.com/about-kit/
Once upon a life, I made gravity nervous— 
Headlining at Ballys, tossing clubs with a grin.
Seven of them. A world record—
Because physics loves a good insult. 😄
Then came the truck—the coma.
Thirty-seven silent days offstage.
And here I am now—not juggling clubs.
But throwing purpose, grit, and joy.
Balancing healing, catching courage.
Tossing hope sky-high. 🤹♂️
The mission grew bigger than applause.
Now I lift humans. I write to stay connected.
I write because it’s how I breathe.
If these words help you, too?
That’s magic catching air. 🎉
What’s next on Kit’s journey through life?
Back to juggling? Back to life?
Stay with Kit and find out.
Life can get better.
Life will get better. ✨
PART 1) THE BEGINNINGS
Every story asks this question first: Where do I begin?
The answer is simple—Start at the beginning.
It began a long, long time ago, when I was very young…
I’ve written about juggling before—but the tent has grown. New readers, new faces, and way more balls flying through the air. So… it’s time to teach again. 🎉
This shot was taken in New Zealand!
And if you already know how to juggle? Perfect. You’re not off the hook. I challenge you to learn at least three new tricks this week. Because growth doesn’t happen while we’re lounging on the couch of “I’ve already got this.” Growth starts the moment we wobble a little.
Catch ready? Deep breath. Toss. Let’s go. 🤹♂️✨
Recently, a few people told me they love my blog posts. And I’ll be honest—that stopped me mid-stride, in the best possible way. Thank you. Truly. Knowing my words land somewhere warm, helpful, or encouraging means more than I can easily explain.
I write these posts hoping they spark a smile, a thought, a pause—maybe even a tiny shift in how you see your own life. If a handful of people feel that, I’m deeply grateful. And yes, I’ll admit it (with a hopeful grin): I’d love for hundreds more to find something here that nudges them forward, lifts them, or reminds them they’re not walking this road alone.
Words are funny little things. You toss them into the world like paper airplanes, never quite knowing where they’ll land—or if they’ll nose-dive into a hedge. ✈️🌿
But when someone writes back and says, “Hey… that one hit home,”
It makes the whole adventure worth it.
So thank you—for reading, for noticing, and for being part of this ongoing,
slightly mischievous, joy-splashed experiment called living better. 🎈💛
PART 2) THINGS THAT HAPPENED THIS WEEK
Kit’s Daily Delights — Inspiration, Served Fresh.
>>>>> January 24
Up early, as usual. The day hadn’t even finished stretching yet, and there I was—vertical, alert, and wondering what adventure I could invent before breakfast showed up—first stop: the patio and garden.
I went out with a straightforward mission—clean things up—but ended up discovering a whole hidden world of neglect. Places I hadn’t wandered to before revealed their secrets, and wow… cigarette debris was everywhere. It’s honestly hard to believe how casually some people treat the ground like a personal ashtray. Flick, toss, forget. Meanwhile, the earth just stands there, quietly taking the hit.
So I didn’t just walk. I scavenged. I bent. I swept. I took full responsibility for the patio for the morning. By the time I finished, it looked better—cleaner, calmer, more respected. And maybe that’s the point. I can’t control much right now, but I can leave a place better than I found it. Small act. Big meaning. Boy Scout memories.
After that—well—welcome to Saturday at NR. Capital S for Slow.
The kind of slow where time doesn’t walk… it lounges.
I landed in front of YouTube. Ah, yes, the modern-day campfire.
Videos flickered by while the hours politely refused to move faster.
I’ve written about this before: weekends here move like they’re dragging a sack of bricks uphill. And then there’s the tiredness. That profound, bone-heavy fatigue that shows up daily like an unwanted roommate. I hate it. Not dislike—hate. It steals momentum, dulls ambition, and makes even good ideas feel like too much work.
And yet—inside my head—there’s a voice. Persistent. Annoying. Hopeful.
It keeps whispering, Move on down the road.
Sounds great… except I have no idea where that road leads.
This place is slow. It’s comfortable. Predictable. Especially on weekends. And comfort, I’ve learned, can quietly turn into a cage. Somewhere along the way, I misplaced my freedom—not dramatically, not with sirens and shouting—but gently, almost politely.
That’s the most challenging part. I don’t need chaos. I don’t need perfection. But I do need something different. For now, I sweep. I clean. I notice. I keep my eyes open. And I remind myself—roads don’t disappear just because you haven’t chosen one yet. They wait.
I just taught Carissa (who works at NR) how to juggle—and her six-year-old son, Sebastian, joined the circus too. Sebastian quickly decided that actual juggling was optional. His preferred technique? Launching scarves directly at me–I have hundreds. Over. And over. More and more. Someone had to teach him that highly advanced method. OK, fine—I confess. I am the Scarf-Throwing Master. 🧣😄
The next generation has begun. 🌱
>>>>> January 25
On my daily garden-and-patio patrol, I was greeted by a small miracle: far fewer cigarette butts and bits of rubbish. Cue the angels. Either my quiet crusade is working… or the littering spirits took the day off. I’ll take the win. While I was out there, I gave myself a haircut—because why not? Clippers in hand, breeze on my face, saving money and doing a better job than most barbers. Self-reliance looks good on me. ✂️ ✨
And being Sunday, the place is blissfully light on humans. Just me, the garden, a little cleanliness victory, and the calm satisfaction of a day behaving itself. Sometimes joy doesn’t shout—it nods and smiles quietly, as Kit does. 😄
I’ve put together a letter to film producers—my way of tossing a dream into the air and seeing if the world is ready to catch it. It’s a pitch for an inspirational movie drawn straight from my own wild, winding, unbelievable Life.
If someone picks it up? Oh, that would be wonderful. Not for the spotlight—but for the ripple. For the possibility that this story might reach millions of people who are struggling, stuck, or quietly wondering if they still matter.
This isn’t just my story. It’s a reminder that Life can knock you flat, take everything you thought you were, and still somehow leave room for a second act. Or a third. Or a glorious, confetti-filled comeback tour. 🎉
Randy Foster and I in Balboa Park in a street show
So yes, I will be sending letters this week. The ball is in the air. Now I wait—with hope, gratitude, and a grin—believing that if this story lands in the right hands, it could light a few million little fires of courage. And that, my friends, would be a beautiful thing.
Midnight Wisdom from a Man Who Values His Sleep.
Somewhere in the middle of almost every night, my bladder raises its hand and says, “Excuse me. We need to talk.” For most of my life, I did what everyone does. I got up. I walked to the bathroom. I handled business. And then, after returning to bed—wide awake—stared at the ceiling, wondering why sleep had packed its bags and left the building.
Five years ago, I made a small but glorious change. I now keep a metal water bottle right next to the bed. When the urge arrives, still lying there, I reach over, twist off the lid, take care of things, close it up, and… go right back to sleep. No cold floors. No bright lights. No brain turning on like it’s morning news hour. Never a spill. Very clean. Shockingly civilized. Later, I deposit the liquid into the toilet.
Gentlemen—this is not laziness.
Sorry, ladies, this won’t work for you.
This is efficiency.
This is sleep preservation.
This is thinking ahead like a seasoned professional.
You’re welcome. 😄🌙
>>>>> January 26
Monday again. 🎬
Cue the music. Roll the credits.
Here we go—another week steps onto the stage.
Therapy with Maura was scheduled for 10:00 a.m. It wandered in fashionably late, sometime after 10:15. The activity of the hour: Apples to Apples. A game that could be engaging—if someone actually studied it first and explained how to play. Instead, it felt like another time-filler, more playground than progress.
Maura knows I write about these things. She knows I’ll use real words. Good. Because that means they know they need to raise the bar. People deserve better than recycled distractions when real growth is at stake.
At 11:00 came Cornhole.
You already know how that went.
I didn’t stay.
Same ol’, same ol’. Or as I like to call it: same-ol’ shame-ol’. There are thousands of meaningful, creative, brain-engaging activities out there—one quick search away. Yet here we are, tossing beanbags like it’s the grand solution–It isn’t.
Later, I discovered (through Amazon, not human communication) that two packages had been delivered for me. To actually receive them, I have to go through Myles. Everything is checked. Inspected. Approved–Privacy?–Not so much.
I wouldn’t care if I were ordering contraband pogo sticks—but I’m not. Still, the lack of privacy is staggering. Control has a way of sneaking in disguised as “procedure,” and I don’t love that costume. It almost makes me want to fight back against the “rules”.
I ended the day with a video call with Rosa, a psychologist. She’s kind and well-intentioned. But I don’t need that kind of help right now, which makes it difficult to imagine a future there. I know many people benefit deeply from that work—I genuinely do—but it doesn’t feel like my path.
Ironically, I spent most of the call entertaining and inspiring her.
Which is fine—I’ve done that my whole life.
But I didn’t walk away with much in return.
And still…
I’m here.
Thinking. Observing. Writing.
Refusing to go numb.
Onward. 🚀
>>>>> January 27
The days really do fly by, don’t they? One minute you’re lacing up your shoes, the next the sun is already negotiating its exit. 🕊️
First stop this morning: the garden/patio patrol—a little sweep here, a quiet scan there. Someone—or several someones—left it looking pretty good—a small victory. I’ll take it. 🌱
But then… that tiredness arrived. Not the polite, bedtime kind. This one is sneakier. A strange, heavy fog that doesn’t say, “Go to sleep,” but whispers, “Just shut everything down.” Mind, energy, enthusiasm—offline. I tried to wrestle it, but today it pinned me pretty quickly. Some days are like that. No drama. Just noticing.
Later, I caught a ride to see my doctor, Melissa Beltre, who is genuinely wonderful to work with. One of those rare humans you can feel actually cares. She listens. She notices. She does right by people. That matters. A lot.
I made her a promise: next visit, I’m teaching her—and anyone else brave enough in the office—how to juggle. 🤹♂️ She lit up at the idea. Nothing like planting a little playfulness into a medical office. That’s preventative care, if you ask me.
From there, a practical mission: Costco. Green tea stock-up. I like the kind they have, and I went all in—three boxes. Future-me will be very grateful. 🍵 Calm in a cup.
And finally, a small but meaningful note:
Karen, I’m happy you read my blog.
Truly. Knowing these words land somewhere.
Warm and human means more than I can say.
Another day. Not flashy. Not perfect. But I lived. And that still counts. 🌟
>>>>> January 28
The weather here in central Florida is cool—pleasantly cool, the kind that lets you breathe without flinching. Meanwhile, up north near Lancaster, Pennsylvania—where my daughters live—it’s a whole different story. Cold. Real cold. Snow-on-snow cold. I know, because for 23 years I had a home in Trainer, PA. That’s where they grew up, where winters meant shovels, frozen fingers, and the annual question: Why do humans live like this?
Growing up in San Diego, I’ve never loved cold weather. Not even a little. Which explains why I’m down here now, enjoying Florida’s version of winter while Pennsylvania has piles of snow stacked like stubborn reminders of January. None of that here—no shovels, no scraping windshields. Just sunshine and a little smug satisfaction 😆.
Therapy today started from 10 to 11 a.m. with a group session led by Lilly. There were six of us in total. She talked about attention, memory, processing speed, impulsivity, and focus—essential topics, of course. Much of it covered the obvious, the things you’d expect, but repetition has its place. Sometimes hearing the basics again is like tightening loose screws—you don’t notice until things run a little smoother.
At 11:30, I met with Dino.
And like always… we mostly just sat and talked.
No worksheets. No games. No pretending. Just conversation.
And honestly? That’s often the best therapy of all.
Later, I headed out to the garden. It’s never “too late” for that. I cleaned, straightened, and did my usual patrol. Sadly, there were still gobs of cigarette butts scattered around—gross, discouraging, and unnecessary. Cold weather is expected later this week, Florida-style, which means it’s time to protect the crops. I’ll cover the lettuce and tomatoes with a tarp, tuck them in, and try to keep them warm and happy. Funny how plants get more protection than people sometimes.
And yes… I still question why I am here. That question floats through my mind more often than I’d like. But as I’ve written before, there isn’t anywhere else for me to go right now. Life has me paused on this particular square of the board.
What an extraordinary life I’ve led.
Unexpected turns. Hard stops. Wild restarts.
And somehow—I’m still standing, still thinking, still tending a garden.
That has to count for something. 🌱
>>>>> January 29
Before you know it—boom—another day taps you on the shoulder and says, “Hey, let’s do this again.” This morning started sweetly. Nancy came by my room just to thank me for the garden. That stopped me in my tracks—in the best way. A simple thank-you can water the soul better than rain ever could. 🌱
Then it was time for the daily routine: cleaning and straightening the garden and patio. You’d think a place meant for fresh air and calm thoughts would stay… well… calm. But there’s one particular spot where someone appears to dispose of at least 33 cigarette butts a day. Thirty-three. Daily. That’s not just litter—that’s time, money, and life quietly burning away. I genuinely hope you don’t smoke. There are better ways to rebel against the universe.
Only one therapy session today—OT group at 10 a.m. Group activities and I have a complicated relationship. Often, they feel less like therapy and more like adult daycare with a clipboard. When I checked the clock earlier (9:08 a.m.), hope was still alive.
The game of the day? “Hedbanz.” A guessing game. I didn’t shine. Not because I couldn’t—but because my heart wasn’t in it. My brain kept whispering, Is this really the best use of a perfect human mind? Sometimes it feels less like therapy and more like time being politely escorted out the door.
But—plot twist—Maryann showed up. She came to my room and asked me to take the time to figure out a group exercise for tomorrow. She wanted something better for tomorrow. That matters. That effort counts.
I floated an idea: we could all cross the street to the park and throw a ball around. Fresh air. Movement. Laughter. Real life. Sometimes healing doesn’t come from sitting in a chair—it comes from standing up, stepping outside, and remembering you’re still part of the world.
We’ll see what tomorrow brings. 🌞
I’m ready.
>>>>> January 30
Friday again.
Like clockwork. Boom—there it is.
Every seven days, no excuses, Friday shows up wearing the same outfit, asking the same question:
“What are you doing with this day?”
So here I am, finishing this blog and sending it out into the world.
Right now, this—writing for you—is my purpose.
Words out. Heart open. Signal sent.
And you? What’s your purpose these days?
(Stay tuned. I’ve got a whole blog coming on that very question. Spoiler alert: purpose isn’t found—it’s built.)
I received my schedule for today. Brace yourself. Nothing.
Once again, a wide-open canvas pretending to be a void.
Except—there was one thing: a dentist appointment at 8:30 a.m. And since the calendar was otherwise asleep, I decided I’d fill the silence by writing to you. A good trade, if you ask me.
Then Maryann stopped by with news:
🏀 Basketball this afternoon.
We’ll see how that unfolds. I’ll report back from the court.
Dentist update!
The retainer was supposed to be glued in place. “Set.” “Done.” “Finished.”
Yeah… no.
I went to eat breakfast and—pop!—out it came like it had a plane to catch.
I called the office, used my own glue (don’t worry, MacGyver moment only), put it back in, and here I sit—retainer in, patience slightly out.
Why did I ever decide to have all my lower teeth extracted?
All because I was missing a few?
I read one scary story about infections traveling north and hijacking your whole head and thought, Sure, let’s go nuclear.
Lesson noted: Decisions made while Googling at night should come with a 24-hour waiting period. 😄
My mouth is still negotiating peace terms with this new resident—the retainer.
Next stop: Garden/Patio Patrol. 🌱
Good news—pretty clean out there. I like that.
I pulled the tarp off the lettuce and tomatoes, letting them breathe and soak up the day. Cold nights are coming again, so I’ll tuck them in tonight. A little care goes a long way—for plants and people.
Then, out of nowhere, I heard myself say out loud:
“I hate this life I am living.” Whoa.
That one came flying out without knocking.
I didn’t invite it, but there it was—honest, raw, and real.
Here’s the thing: saying it doesn’t make it permanent.
It just makes it visible.
And once something is visible, it can be changed.
Every month or two, we have a fire drill.
Sirens blare. Everyone files out.
We stand around for fifteen minutes.
Then we file back in.
Today? The alarm sounded for a few minutes, then stopped.
False alarm. More waste of my time.
I laughed and went back to my room. Another almost-event.
With nothing scheduled, the day felt like a waste of time.
But here’s the twist—
I wrote to you.
I told the truth.
I noticed the garden.
I showed up.
And sometimes, that’s enough to keep the spark alive until tomorrow lights the fuse again. 🔥
Friday showed up.
So did I.
And so did you.
And that still counts.
2:00 PM sharp, Maryann came around, rounding up the crew for basketball. Six of us players plus one fearless organizer—Maryann herself. And just like that, the afternoon transformed.
Was I good?
Absolutely not. 😄
My basketball skills remain… consistent (read: terrible).
But here’s the thing—it didn’t matter one bit.
We laughed. We moved. We missed shots with confidence. The weather cooperated as if it knew we needed a win, and for a little while, life felt lighter. No pressure, no scorekeeping, no judgments—just fresh air, motion, and a shared moment of joy.
So even though not a single scout is calling me anytime soon,
I’ll say this with certainty:
Everyone walked away a winner. 🎉
PART 3)🌟 BLOG 362 — You Juggling? — YES!
🌱 ONE BALL
(Yes. Everything starts with one.)
Throwing a single ball—what would eventually become juggling—
Started for me in 1975, at age 15.
One ball. One toss. One curious brain.
About a year later, that curiosity landed me on The Gong Show. I honestly forget how I pulled that off (youth has a way of doing that), but there I was—young, nervous, juggling… and I won first place!
For a young juggler?
That was rocket fuel. 🚀
🌺 HAWAII — Commitment in Paradise
I realized something early on:
If I wanted to be great, juggling couldn’t be a hobby.
It had to be a devotion.
So I packed up my life with my friend and phenomenal juggler Barrett Felker,
And we went to Hawaii. We lived, practiced, and performed there for three months—traveling island to island.
Sun. Sweat. Skill.
Paradise with calluses.
🚆 EUROPE — Where the Masters Were
Later that same year, I knew exactly where to go next.
Europe.
That’s where the great jugglers were.
My lifelong friend John Fox and I grabbed Eurail passes and, for three months, traveled country to country by train—meeting legends, trading tricks, absorbing styles, philosophies, and possibilities.
This wasn’t tourism.
This was education. 🎓🎪
🎭 I AM A JUGGLER
Being exposed to so many forms of juggling at such a young age didn’t just shape my skill—it ignited a lifelong passion. I was all in.
And here’s the quiet truth:
You can be, too.
🎉 “ISN’T THAT JUST A PARTY TRICK?”
Most people think juggling is a novelty.
A party trick.
Something a clown does while wearing shoes the size of small canoes.
They are delightfully—gloriously—wrong.
Juggling didn’t just entertain me.
It fulfilled me. It gave me a future.
🧠 IT’S NOT ABOUT THE OBJECTS
Juggling isn’t about balls, clubs, or flaming torches
(though yes… those are fun).
Juggling is about:
- The brain
- The body
- The spirit
It’s that beautiful, fragile moment
When chaos learns to dance.
⚡ THE FIRST TOSS — Waking Up the Brain
When you first try juggling, something miraculous happens almost immediately:
Your brain panics.
It protests.
It says, “Nope. Gravity has opinions.”
And that’s the gift.
Juggling forces both sides of your brain to talk to each other—
sometimes for the first time since you rode a bike without training wheels.
Logic meets creativity.
Timing meets intuition.
Focus meets play.
🔄 FEEDBACK, NOT FAILURE
Every throw is a tiny decision.
Every catch is feedback.
Every drop is information, not failure.
Your brain lights up as a Christmas tree plugged directly into curiosity. 🎄⚡
💥 THE DROP — Failure Isn’t Fatal
You will drop the balls. Frequently. Spectacularly.
And that’s where the deeper magic begins.
Juggling teaches failure without punishment.
No grades. No shame. No judgment.
Just: Pick it up. Try again.
In a world that treats mistakes like crimes, juggling whispers a radical truth:
You don’t get better despite the drops. You get better because of them.
That lesson transfers beautifully to life.
Missed opportunities. Awkward conversations. Bad days. Broken plans.
Drop. Breathe. Reset. Throw again.
🌊 THE RHYTHM — Calm Inside Motion
Here’s a surprise for most people: Juggling is calming.
Once the pattern begins to flow, something settles inside you.
Breathing evens out.
The mind stops replaying the past or racing ahead.
Ball. Ball. Ball.
Juggling becomes moving meditation.
You cannot juggle yesterday.
You cannot juggle tomorrow.
You can only juggle now.
🧍♂️ THE BODY KNOWS
Juggling is an exercise in disguise.
It improves:
- Balance
- Coordination
- Posture
- Reaction time
- Spatial awareness
You stand taller. You move smarter. Your hands learn precision. Your feet learn patience.
And unlike treadmills or dumbbells, juggling doesn’t feel like punishment for enjoying food.
It feels like play.
📈 THE CONFIDENCE CURVE
One of juggling’s most incredible gifts has nothing to do with juggling.
It changes how you see yourself.
When you learn—even a simple three-ball cascade—you prove something powerful:
You can learn hard things.
Not instantly.
Not perfectly.
But steadily.
That belief sneaks into everything else:
“If I learned this… what else could I learn?”
“If I stuck with that… what else could I finish?”
Juggling builds belief—one catch at a time.
🔄 FEEDBACK, NOT FAILURE
Every throw is a tiny decision.
Every catch is feedback.
Every drop is information, not failure.
Your brain lights up as a Christmas tree plugged directly into curiosity. 🎄⚡
🎭 ONLY JUGGLING FOR ABOUT SEVEN YEARS? 
Yes, juggling became my passion; I lived for the craft. Learning at 15 in 1975, juggling consumed me. Before my accident in 1982, I would continue to practice for at least six hours a day. At this point, I had traveled the world and was well known as a top juggler.
Because of the accident in 1982 and my having to go through a 37-day coma, I lost all ability to use my hands and arms for juggling. So, I was a “real” juggler for only about seven years. But I stayed with the skill all my life — teaching, writing books, producing videos, traveling.
🎈 PLAY IS NOT OPTIONAL
Somewhere along the way, adults are tricked into believing play is frivolous.
Something you earn after productivity.
Juggling laughs at that.
It brings back joy without apology.
Silliness with purpose.
Wonder without embarrassment.
You smile while learning.
You laugh while failing.
You celebrate small wins.
And suddenly life feels lighter—
not because it’s easier,
but because you are.
🌟 THE BIG LESSON
Life isn’t about keeping everything in the air forever.
Things will fall.
Plans will change.
Hands will get tired.
What matters is rhythm.
Recovery.
Resilience.
You don’t need perfection.
You need practice.
You don’t need control.
You need presence.
And sometimes, all it takes to remember that…
…is tossing three simple objects into the air
and trusting yourself to catch them again. 🎉🤹♂️
Because when you can juggle—
You’re not just juggling balls or scarves.
You’re juggling life.
🧣 GETTING STARTED (The Easy Way!)
Scarves are the easiest way to begin.
They slow everything down and teach the pattern without stress.
- Buy tulle fabric (Walmart or online)
- Cut into 18″ x 18″ squares.
- The cost is less than a nickel per scarf.
- Slow motion = instant success.
🎥 Learn scarf juggling from my friend Niels here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4aHcmUAWo7I
🎯 HOW TO JUGGLE 3 BALLS (Quick Guide)
1 Ball
Throw a ball hand-to-hand, about 3 inches above your head.
Watch the peak. Throw from the inside, catch on the outside.
Always look toward the ceiling.
2 Balls
One in each hand.
Throw one across to the other hand.
As it reaches the top, throw the second across.
3 Balls
Start with two in one hand.
Always begin with the hand holding two.
As the second ball descends—throw the third.
Back and forth. Rhythm over speed.
Throw-catch, throw-catch.
Practice and you will find perfection. There are many YouTube videos to learn to juggle any number of balls and do a variety of tricks while juggling.
PART 4) 🔥 A FEW SPARKS TO SLIP INTO YOUR POCKET
✨ THE MAGIC OF QUOTES ✨
Quotes are tiny magic lanterns—glimmers of wisdom that light our way. They contain big truths in small packages, offering comfort, clarity, and courage when we need it most. A single line can steady a trembling heart, clarify a foggy thought, or remind us to keep moving toward our dreams with a whisper that says, “Keep going—there’s more ahead.”
“Since juggling regularly has been shown to improve brain density in gray matter, more and more people are turning to juggling… to help sharpen your mind (and body).” — David Kadle.
“Juggling can become your life!”— Kit Summers.
“You will never be delighted by work until you are satisfied with life.” —Heather Schuck.
“Balance is a feeling derived from being whole and complete; it’s a sense of harmony. It is essential to maintain quality in life and work.” —Joshua Oseng.
“When you have balance in your life, work becomes an entirely different experience. There is a passion that moves you to a whole new level of fulfillment and gratitude, and that’s when you can do your best, for yourself and for others.” —Cara Delevingne.
“Happiness is not a matter of intensity, but of balance, order, rhythm, and harmony.” —Thomas Merton.
“You can build your business life where you are working with people you want to work with. Then it becomes a pleasure, and then you can do better.” —Andy Morgan.
“Remember that work and life coexist. Wellness at work follows you home and vice versa.” —Melissa Steginus.
“You can’t do a good job if your job is all you do.” —Katie Thurmes.
“Be steady and well-ordered in your life so that you can be fierce and original in your work.” —Gustave Flaubert
“You can’t have everything you want, but you can have the things that really matter to you.” —Marissa Mayer.
“Self-care is, fundamentally, about bringing balance back to a life that has grown imbalanced from too many commitments or responsibilities.” —Robyn L Gobin.
“Balance is not about juggling everything at once, but knowing when to give each aspect of life its due attention.” — Goodreads
“Now, juggling can be a lot of fun; play with skill and play with space, play with rhythm.” — Michael Moschen.
“I’m happy when I’m juggling… [it’s] a good problem.” — Kirstie Alley
“A person who learns to juggle six balls will be more skilled than the person who never tries to juggle more than three.” — Marilyn vos Savant.
“Juggling your personal life, your social life, and your work is hard… but I think it’s worth it.” — Sophia Lillis.
“It’s a juggling act to find a balance between being you and playing a role.” — Kristen Schaal.
“Since juggling regularly has been shown to improve brain density in gray matter, more and more people are turning to juggling… to help sharpen your mind (and body).” — David Kadle.
PART 5) YOUR CHALLENGE THIS WEEK >>
LEARN TO JUGGLE! (of course.)
If you can already juggle, learn three new tricks this week.
PART 6) NEXT WEEK>>BLOG 363—EVERYONE HAS A STORY
You’ve read much of my story.
Now you need to write your own story.
Write me today—kitsummers@gmail.com
PART 7) FINAL THOUGHTS 🌟
Because the best is always still ahead.
So juggle joy like it’s the air you breathe.
The horizon holds more than you can yet imagine.
Your present moment is not the finish line—it’s your starting block.
Chase sunsets as if they’re secret treasures waiting just for you.
Laugh so loudly that tomorrow leans in to listen.
Live as though you’ve only just begun—
BECAUSE YOU TRULY HAVE!
