Juggling Balls Quotes

Imagine life is a game in which you are juggling five balls. The balls are called work, family, health, friends, and integrity. And you're keeping all of them in the air. But one day you finally come to understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. The other four balls...are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be irrevocably scuffed, nicked, perhaps even shattered.

I fear others will discover that I am not only imperfect; I’m not even okay. I fear that I truly am not okay. But most people who meet me never know that I am struggling. On the outside I am smiling. I am juggling all the balls of okayness: physical, emotional, mental, spiritual, existential. Underneath, I am suffocating.

Those who try to juggle wisdom, power and greed, drop one of the balls, every time.” —Zarost

Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling some five balls in the air. You name them - work, family, health, friends and spirit - and you're keeping all of these in the air. You will soon understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. But the other four balls - family, health, friends and spirit - are made of glass. If you drop one of these, they will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked, damaged or even shattered. They will never be the same. You must understand that and strive for balance in your life.

Vimes felt his hand begin to move of its own accord-- And stopped. Red rage froze. There was The Beast, all around him. And that's all it was. A beast. Useful, but still a beast. You could hold it on a chain, and make it dance, and juggle balls. It didn't think. It was dumb. What you were, what you were, was not The Beast.

Of course it's juggling,” the man in motley was saying [...] “You know what your problem is, Sir Grenall? You've been seduced by the lure of spectacle. Sure, I could juggle three or four balls and use two hands, and that would be very impressive, but then what would I do after that? Five balls? Three hands? You see how it goes? Now me, I'm an artist, trying to recapture the original purity of the art form. This” - the man nodded at the ball he tossing up and down - “this is the essence of juggling.

Conversation should be like juggling; up go the balls and plates, up and over, in and out, good solid objects that glitter in the footlights and fall with a bang if you miss them.

Here's a nice image for a life in balance,” she said. “You're juggling these four balls that you've named work, family, friends, spirit. Now, work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it bounces back. The other balls they're made of glass.” “I've dropped a few of those glass balls in my day. Sometimes they chip, sometimes they shatter to pieces.

DESIREE: Don't forget, Madame, that love is a perpetual juggling of three balls. Their names are heart, word and sex. How easily these three balls can be juggled, and how easily one of them can be dropped.

The finished clock is resplendent. At first glance it is simply a clock, a rather large black clock with a white face and a silver pendulum. Well crafted, obviously, with intricately carved woodwork edges and a perfectly painted face, but just a clock. But that is before it is wound. Before it begins to tick, the pendulum swinging steadily and evenly. Then, then it becomes something else. The changes are slow. First, the color changes in the face, shifts from white to grey, and then there are clouds that float across it, disappearing when they reach the opposite side. Meanwhile, bits of the body of the clock expand and contract, like pieces of a puzzle. As though the clock is falling apart, slowly and gracefully. All of this takes hours. The face of the clock becomes a darker grey, and then black, with twinkling stars where numbers had been previously. The body of the clock, which has been methodically turning itself inside out and expanding, is now entirely subtle shades of white and grey. And it is not just pieces, it is figures and objects, perfectly carved flowers and planets and tiny books with actual paper pages that turn. There is a silver dragon that curls around part of the now visible clockwork, a tiny princess in a carved tower who paces in distress, awaiting an absent prince. Teapots that pour into teacups and minuscule curls of steam that rise from them as the seconds tick. Wrapped presents open. Small cats chase small dogs. An entire game of chess is played. At the center, where a cuckoo bird would live in a more traditional timepiece, is the juggler. Dress in harlequin style with a grey mask, he juggles shiny silver balls that correspond to each hour. As the clock chimes, another ball joins the rest until at midnight he juggles twelve balls in a complex pattern. After midnight, the clock begins once more to fold in upon itself. The face lightens and the cloud returns. The number of juggled balls decreases until the juggler himself vanishes. By noon it is a clock again, and no longer a dream.

Juggling is an illusion. ... In reality, the balls are being independently caught and thrown in rapid succession. ... It is actually task switching.

the key to juggling is to know that some of the balls you have in the air are made of plastic & some are made of glass. When you are struggling to function, it’s important to identify what are your glass balls.

Imagine life is a game in which you are juggling five balls. The balls are called work, family, health, friends, and integrity. And you’re keeping all of them in the air. But one day you finally come to understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. The other four balls—family, health, friends, integrity—are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be irrevocably scuffed, nicked, perhaps even shattered.

Some people are born to lift heavy weights, some are born to juggle golden balls.

The story was clearly over, as in juggling when the ball you throw up finds the moment to come down, hesitates as if it might not, and then drops at the same speed of that celestial light. And life is no longer good but just what you happen to be holding.

I'm starting to understand that attempting to be perfect has been the goal of my life. Our lives. Attempting to be this fault-free, smiling person in this loving, happy family that fits so perfectly in this pretty, inoffensive little town. What was so bad about that goal after all? Only that I couldn't do it. That I let everybody down. I've been so down about it, so depressed thinking about all the balls I was trying to juggle that I've dropped, and now the cogs are turning toward total apathy toward it all, everything and all I can think about is that I am a shell of a human being. I'm a pushover. I'm to blame.

Quote from James Patterson's book "Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas" "Imagine life is a game in which you are juggling five balls. The balls are called work, family, health, friends, and integrity. And you're keeping all of them in the air. But one day you finally come to understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. The other four balls - family, health, friends, integrity - are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be irrevocably scuffed, nicked, perhaps even shattered. And once you truly understand the lesson of the five balls, you will have the beginnings of balance in your life.

I feel . . .” What a good question. “Like all the plot balls that I was juggling have dropped to the floor. And I have no idea what comes next in my story.

He has reverted, in other words, back into a pure balls-to-the-wall nerdism rivaled only by his early game-coding days back in Seattle. The sheer depth and involution of the current nerdism binge would be hard to convey to anyone. Intellectually, he is juggling half a dozen lit torches, Ming vases, live puppies, and running chainsaws. In this frame of mind he cannot bring himself to give a shit about the fact that this incredibly powerful billionaire has gone to a lot of trouble to come and F2F with him.

Five balls! Five bright brass balls! To juggle with, my love, when the sky falls.

The arrogance of the intellectual. The delusion that we have more balls in the brain to juggle than most people.

Never give a clown too many balls to juggle

My own opinion is that if I keep juggling, then all the balls will stay in the air and my comeuppance will never come down, however richly deserved.

Maybe memory is overrated. Maybe forgetting is better. (Show me the Proust of forgetting, and I'll read him tomorrow.) Sometimes it's like juggling a hundred thousand crystal balls in the air at once, trying to keep all these memories going. Every time one falls to the floor and shatters into dust, another crevice cracks open inside me, through which another chunk of who we were disappears forever.

Jennifer Lynn Barnes, a YA author tweeted: One time, I was at a Q&A with Nora Roberts, and someone asked her how to balance writing and kids, and she said that the key to juggling is to know that some of the balls you have in the air are made of plastic & some are made of glass. When you are struggling to function, it’s important to identify what are your glass balls. Feeding yourself, caring for your children or animals, taking your medication, and addressing your mental health are all examples of glass balls. Dropping them would have devastating consequences and likely cause you to drop all the balls. Recycling, veganism, shopping local, and avoiding fast fashion are plastic balls. They may be important, but they will not shatter your life if you drop them in the way the glass balls will. Plastic balls will fall to the floor and stay intact so you can pick them up again. Glass balls will not.

Imagine life is a game in which you are juggling five balls. The balls are called work, family, health, friends, and integrity. And you're keeping all of them in the air. But one day you finally come to understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. The other four balls-family, health, friends, integrity-are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be irrevocably scuffed, nicked, perhaps even shattered. And once you truly understand the lesson of the five balls, you will have the beginnings of balance in your life.

Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling some five balls in the air. You name them --work, family, health, friends and spirit and you're keeping all of these in the air. You will soon understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. But the other four balls -- family, health friends and spirit are made of glass. If you drop one of these, they will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked, damaged or even shattered. They will never be the same. You must understand that and strive for balance in your life." Brian Dyson, former vice chairman and COO of Coca-Cola.

If the pupil proves to be of so perverse a disposition that he would rather listen to some idle tale than to the account of a glorious voyage or to a wise conversation, when he hears one; if he turns away from the drum-beat that awakens young ardour in his comrades, to listen to another tattoo that summons him to a display of juggling; if he does not fervently feel it to be pleasanter and sweeter to return from a wrestling-match, dusty but victorious, with the prize in his hand, than from a game of tennis or a ball, I can see no other remedy that for his tutor to strangle him before it is too late, if there are no witnesses.

Life is a great big beautiful three-ring circus. There are those on the floor making their lives among the heads of lions and hoops of fire, and those in the stands, complacent and wowed, their mouths stuffed with popcorn. I know less now than ever about life, but I do know its size. Life is enormous. Much grander than what we’ve taken for ourselves, so far. When the show is over and the tent is packed, the elephants, lions and dancing poodles are caged and mounted on trucks to caravan to the next town. The clown’s makeup has worn, and his bright, red smile has been washed down a sink. All that is left is another performance, another tent and set of lights. We rest in the knowledge: the show must go on. Somewhere, behind our stage curtain, a still, small voice asks why we haven’t yet taken up juggling. My seminars were like this. Only, instead of flipping shiny, black bowling balls or roaring chainsaws through the air, I juggled concepts. The world is intrinsically tied together. All things march through time at different intervals but move ahead in one fashion or another. Though we may never understand it, we are all part of something much larger than ourselves—something anchoring us to the spot we have mentally chosen. We sniff out the rules, through spiritual quests and the sciences. And with every new discovery, we grow more confused. Our inability to connect what seems illogical to unite and to defy logic in our understanding keeps us from enlightenment. The artists and insane tiptoe around such insights, but lack the compassion to hand-feed these concepts to a blind world. The interconnectedness of all things is not simply a pet phrase. It is a big “T” truth that the wise spend their lives attempting to grasp.

Juggling is about throwing, not catching That’s why it’s so difficult to learn how to juggle. We’re conditioned to make the catch, to hurdle whatever is in our way to save the day, to—no matter what—not drop the ball. If you spend your time and energy and focus on catching, it’s inevitable that your throws will suffer. You’ll get plenty of positive feedback for the catches you make, but you’ll always be behind, because the throws you manage to make will be ever less useful. Paradoxically, if you get better at throwing, the catches take care of themselves. The only way to get better at throwing, though, is to throw. Throw poorly, throw again. Throw well, throw again. Get good at throwing first.

Dating in your fifties was like juggling a lit torch, a chain saw, and a bag of dog poop. Drop one ball and everything went to shit.

Some spit fire out of their mouths and others juggled balls or pins, their faces painted to look like clowns. Juana wondered if they did that to hide their real faces and not feel ashamed.

Me iudice, in my opinion, life is like juggling... Things come at you―balls, clubs, knives, sorrow, loss. Either you stand there and let them hit you or you throw them back pugnis et calcibus, with all your might.

There's no dark like it. It's soft to the touch and heavy in the hands. You can open your mouth and let it sink into you 'till it makes a close ball in your belly. You can juggle with it, dodge it, swim in it. You can open it like a door.

And that’s what life is these days, isn’t it? A series of slips and catches, mistakes and remorse, a constant juggling act of pretending to feel okay when all she wants to do is fall apart. One day, all those balls will drop, and they won’t just break. They’ll shatter.

The goal is to minimize the amount of a program you have to think about at any one time. You might think of this as mental juggling—the more mental balls the program requires you to keep in the air at once, the more likely you'll drop one of the balls, leading to a design or coding error.

Imagine life as a game where you’re juggling five balls in the air. The five balls are work, family, health, friends, and happiness. You’ll soon find out that your work is a rubber ball; if you drop it, it bounces back into your hands. But the other four balls are made of glass. If you drop any of them, they’ll be forever damaged, broken, or completely destroyed. They’ll never be the same again. So work effectively when you’re at work and go home on time. Give the necessary time to your family and your friends and look after yourself. A value only has value if it is valued.3

Imagine life as a game in which you’re juggling five balls in the air. Let’s name them work, family, health, friends, and spirit. Somehow you’re keeping all those balls in the air. That’s not an easy thing to do. Sound familiar? Sound a little like your life? Well, it definitely sounds like mine. Hopefully, you come to understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will usually bounce back. But the other four balls—family, health, friends, and spirit—are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked, damaged, or even shattered. It will never be the same.

Mire, mire! called the man. He was fishing about in his pockets and soon he was juggling four small wooden balls in front of Glanton’s horse. The horse snorted and lifted its head and Glanton leaned over the saddle and spat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Aint that the drizzlin shits, he said.

An oddity follows, a small circular ball of plasma drops from the ceiling of the Newara, for some reason Zara goes to catch it in her hands, “Whoa,” she juggles it, thinking it’s hot, but it’s cool to touch. The orb levitates up to face her. “Hi Zara.” “Rohza?” “In the flesh.” “Holy moley! You’re a real life will-o’-the-wisp.” Zara says, her face lit up from Rohza’s flickering light.

I’m thinking about the fact that we imagine that we live in the light. We imagine we can foresee what’s gonna happen. We imagine we can control everything: I’m gonna do this, and I’m gonna do that. But the reality is, almost all of us are just stumbling along in the dark, searching, trying to reach some kind of home, while we’re juggling all these balls and hopefully on most days keeping them afloat.

Envision life as you're juggling 6 balls. The balls are called faith, work, family, health, friends, and integrity. But one day, you realize that work is a rubber ball. If dropped, it will bounce back. The other 5 balls faith, family, health, friends, & integrity are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be surely scuffed, nicked, or even shattered. Grasp this concept and you will have the beginnings of balance in your life.

Again as during fetal development, synapses that underlie cognitive and other abilities stick around if they’re used but wither if they’re not. The systematic elimination of unused synapses, and thus unused circuits, presumably results in greater efficiency for the neural networks that are stimulated—the networks that support, in other words, behaviors in which the adolescent is actively engaged. Just as early childhood seems to be a time of exquisite sensitivity to the environment (remember the babies who dedicate auditory circuits only to the sounds of their native language, eliminating those for phonemes that they do not hear), so may adolescence. The teen years are, then, a second chance to consolidate circuits that are used and prune back those that are not—to hard-wire an ability to hit a curve ball, juggle numbers mentally, or turn musical notation into finger movements almost unconsciously. Says Giedd, “Teens have the power to determine their own brain development, to determine which connections survive and which don’t, [by] whether they do art, or music, or sports, or videogames.

Having outgrown its Manhattan headquarters, most of Bell Labs moved to two hundred rolling acres in Murray Hill, New Jersey. Mervin Kelly and his colleagues wanted their new home to feel like an academic campus, but without the segregation of various disciplines into different buildings. They knew that creativity came through chance encounters. “All buildings have been connected so as to avoid fixed geographical delineation between departments and to encourage free interchange and close contact among them,” an executive wrote.11 The corridors were extremely long, more than the length of two football fields, and designed to promote random meetings among people with different talents and specialties, a strategy that Steve Jobs replicated in designing Apple’s new headquarters seventy years later. Anyone walking around Bell Labs might be bombarded with random ideas, soaking them up like a solar cell. Claude Shannon, the eccentric information theorist, would sometimes ride a unicycle up and down the long red terrazzo corridors while juggling three balls and nodding at colleagues.III It was a wacky metaphor for the balls-in-the-air ferment in the halls.

Getting out of a scarcity trap first requires formulating a plan, something the scarcity mindset does not easily accommodate. Making a plan is important but not urgent, exactly the sort of thing that tunneling leads us to neglect. Planning requires stepping back, yet juggling keeps us locked into the current situation. Focusing on the ball that is about to drop makes it terribly difficult to see the big picture. You would love to stop playing catch-up, but you have too much to do to figure out how. Right now you must make your rent payment. Right now you must meet that project deadline. Long-term planning clearly falls outside the tunnel.

The finished clock is resplendent. At first glance it is simply a clock, a rather large black clock with a white face and a silver pendulum. Well crafted, obviously, with intricately carved woodwork edges and a perfectly painted face, but just a clock. But that is before it is wound. Before it begins to tick, the pendulum swinging steadily and evenly. Then, then it becomes something else. The changes are slow. First, the color changes in the face, shifts from white to grey, and then there are clouds that float across it, disappearing when they reach the opposite side. Meanwhile, bits of the body of the clock expand and contract, like pieces of a puzzle. As though the clock is falling apart, slowly and gracefully. All of this takes hours. The face of the clock becomes a darker grey, and then black, with twinkling stars where the numbers had been previously. The body of the clock, which has been methodically turning itself inside out and expanding, is now entirely subtle shades of white and grey. And it is not just pieces, it is figures and objects, perfectly carved flowers and planets and tiny books with actual paper pages that turn. There is a silver dragon that curls around part of the now visible clockwork, a tiny princess in a carved tower who paces in distress, awaiting an absent prince. Teapots that pour into teacups and minuscule curls of steam that rise from them as the seconds tick. Wrapped presents open. Small cats chase small dogs. An entire game of chess is played. At the center, where a cuckoo bird would live in a more traditional timepiece, is the juggler. Dressed in harlequin style with a grey mask, he juggles shiny silver balls that correspond to each hour. As the clock chimes, another ball joins the rest until at midnight he juggles twelve balls in a complex pattern. After midnight the clock begins once more to fold in upon itself. The face lightens and the clouds return. The number of juggled balls decreases until the juggler himself vanishes. By noon it is a clock again, and no longer a dream. A

Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas (James Patterson) - Your Highlight at location 161-165 | Added on Sunday, 7 December 2014 20:11:11 Imagine life is a game in which you are juggling five balls. The balls are called work, family, health, friends, and integrity. And you're keeping all of them in the air. But one day you finally come to understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. The other four balls--family, health, friends, integrity--are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be irrevocably scuffed, nicked, perhaps even shattered. And once you truly understand the lesson of the five balls, you will have the beginnings of balance in your life. ==========

It takes the better part of those months for Herr Thiessen to complete the clock. He works on little else, though the sum of money involved makes the arrangement more than manageable. Weeks are spent on the design and the mechanics. He hires an assistant to complete some of the basic woodwork, but he takes care of all the details himself. Herr Thiessen loves details and he loves a challenge. He balances the entire design on that one specific word Mr. Barris used. Dreamlike. The finished clock is resplendent. At first glance it is simply a clock, a rather large black clock with a white face and a silver pendulum. Well crafted, obviously, with intricately carved woodwork edges and a perfectly painted face, but just a clock. But that is before it is wound. Before it begins to tick, the pendulum swinging steadily and evenly. Then, then it becomes something else. The changes are slow. First, the color changes in the face, shifts from white to grey, and then there are clouds that float across it, disappearing when they reach the opposite side. Meanwhile, bits of the body of the clock expand and contract, like pieces of a puzzle. As thought clock is falling apart, slowly and gracefully. All of this takes hours. The face of the clock becomes a darker grey, and then black, with twinkling stars where the numbers had been previously. The body of the clock, which has been methodically turning itself inside out and expanding, is now entirely subtle shades of white and grey. And it is not just pieces, it is figures and objects, perfectly carved flowers and planets and tiny books with actually paper pages that turn. There is a silver dragon curls around part of the now visible clockwork, a tiny princess in a carved tower who paces in distress awaiting an absent prince. Teapots that our into teacups and minuscule curls of steam that rise from them as the seconds tick. Wrapped presents open. Small cats chase small dogs. An entire game of chess is played. At the center, where a cuckoo bird would live in a more traditional timepiece, is the juggler. Dressed in harlequin style with a grey mask, he juggles shiny silver balls that correspond to each hour. As the hour chimes, another ball joins the rest until at midnight he juggles twelve balls in a complex pattern. After midnight the clock begins once more to fold in upon itself. The face lightens and the colds return. The number of juggled balls decreases until the juggler himself vanishes. By noon it is a clock again, and no longer a dream.

Such changes may also be reversible. A number of studies have looked at learning to juggle. One of these studies, carried out by Arne May and colleagues at the University of Regensburg in Germany, scanned people’s brains before and after they had practised juggling three balls every day for three months. At the end of this time, two regions of the jugglers’ brains that process visual motion information had increased in size. But after the passage of another three months, during which the same people had not done any juggling, these regions had returned to their previous size.

One more ball to juggle, but let’s sum up the first two: (1) Israel’s dismal story of the monarchy is the meat of the Old Testament, and the origins stories are an introduction to that main story. (2) Israel’s origins stories, like the stories of the monarchy, were written during the period of the monarchy and the exile when the Israelites were ready to write it. Now, the third ball to keep in the air: (3) Israel’s stories of kings and exile are also the most historically verifiable of all the Old Testament books.

jack of all trades master of none but once you learn how to juggle you rarely drop the ball

Typical bungling officials, elected by the disinterested people to juggle the ball until it can be passed on to some other fool. I could tell five minutes after I opened my mouth that they thought I was crazy. They don’t see the danger until the sword is at their own throats—then they scream for assistance from those of us who knew it all along.

Old stories, those,” Thom Merrilin said, and abruptly he was juggling three colored balls with each hand. “Stories from the Age before the Age of Legends, some say. Perhaps even older. But I have all stories, mind you now, of the Ages that were and will be. Ages when men ruled the heavens and the stars, and Ages when man roamed as brother to the animals. Ages of wonder, and Ages of horror. Ages ended by fire raining from the skies, and Ages doomed by snow and ice covering land and sea. I have all stories, and I will tell all stories. Tales of Mosk the Giant, with his Lance of Fire that could reach around the world, and his wars with Elsbet, the Queen of All. Tales of Materese the Healer, Mother of the Wondrous Ind.” The balls now danced between Thom’s hands in two intertwining circles. His voice was almost a chant, and he turned slowly as he spoke, as if surveying the onlookers to gauge his effect. “I will tell you of the end of the Age of Legends, of the Dragon, and his attempt to free the Dark One into the world of men. I will tell you of the Time of Madness, when Aes Sedai shattered the world; of the Trolloc Wars, when men battled Trollocs for rule of the earth; of the War of a Hundred Years, when men battled men and the nations of our day were wrought. I will tell the adventures of men and women, rich and poor, great and small, proud and humble.

I had never before been so tortured by the slowness of the Mexico City traffic; the irritability of the drivers; the savagery of the dilapidated trucks that ought to have been banned ages ago; the sadness of the begging mothers carrying children in their shawls and extending their calloused hands; the awfulness of the crippled and the blind asking for alms; the melancholy of the children in clown costumes trying to entertain with their painted faces and the little balls they juggled; the insolence and obscene bungling of the pot-bellied police officers leaning against their motorcycles at strategic highway entrances and exits to collect their bite-size bribes; the insolent pathways cleared for the powerful people in their bulletproof limousines; the desperate, self-absorbed, and absent gaze of old people unsteadily crossing side streets without looking where they were going, those white-haired, but-faced men and women resigned to die the same way as they lived; the giant billboards advertising an imaginary world of bras and underpants covering small swaths of perfect bodies with white skin and blonde hair, high-priced shops selling luxury and enchanted vacations in promised paradises.

We all juggle many balls. What makes all the difference is knowing which are made of rubber and which are made of glass.

Seduced by the warm confident woman. Intrigued by the widowed single mother who seemed to effortlessly juggle all the balls in the air. And to his utter astonishment, he fell in love with the messy, frustrated, unhappy woman with toys scattered at her feet.

Growing up in the true sense, I was coming to see, involves more than just keeping all the balls in the air, juggling the responsibilities and details of life as they came at me. It also means understanding that every choice we make gives shape and meaning to the life that is uniquely ours to lead, just as a sculptor’s chisel enlivens and shapes, with each tiny stroke, the stone beneath his hands.

Those who try to juggle wisdom, power and greed, drop one of the balls, every time.”   – Greg Hamerton

James Patterson artfully highlights where our priorities lie in our personal and professional balancing act: “Imagine life is a game in which you are juggling five balls. The balls are called work, family, health, friends, and integrity. And you’re keeping all of them in the air. But one day you finally come to understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. The other four balls—family, health, friends, integrity—are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be irrevocably scuffed, nicked, perhaps even shattered.

In learning to Juggle, the angst comes from failure - from having the ball fall to the floor. So with step one, numb aspiring jugglers to that. Having the ball fall to the floor becomes more normal than the ball not falling to the floor.

In 2014, researchers at Penn State found that women who juggle work and home were proportionately much more likely to experience higher levels of the stress hormone cortisol than were men.

As we passed a bloke playing a saxophone underneath one of the arches, he put down the sax and started doing a juggling thing with his hands. It was a bit peculiar, though, because, as I said to Jas, “He hasn’t got any balls.

MULTITASKING IS LIKE JUGGLING MANY BALLS WITH ONE HAND; IT CAN’T BE DONE

Imagine life is a game in which you are juggling five balls. The balls are called work, family, health, friends and integrity. And you're keeping all of them in the air. But one day, you finally come to understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. The other four balls - family, health, friends, integrity - are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be irrevocably scuffed, nicked, perhaps even shattered. And once you truly understand the lesson of five balls, you will have the beginning of balance in your life. - Suzanne

Graegar told me that any power expended to Change What Was could alert the enemy to my presence, so I held that in reserve and tried a different tactic. I didn't know I could do it until I was forced to do it, either. I placed Kathleen Rome in a short, temporary stasis too many times to count so the surgeon and his staff could save her life. I had to do it remotely, too, as my physical body sat in a cold waiting room, seemingly anticipating an update on Kathleen's condition. The poor girl who got burned was dying, too. Should I save her if I could? It was her fault she'd been injured, but then people make dumb mistakes all the time. I learned that I could juggle several balls at once. Between Kathleen's stasis treatment, I bent power similar to that of a Larentii toward a burned girl in another hospital, repairing charred and damaged tissue. I did what I considered the important things first, lessening the injury and giving her a fighting chance before going back to Kathleen and what she needed to survive. Yes, I'd expended power to save four million people. I was still weary and in need of rest from that. Graegar had said it would take weeks to recuperate; I'd taken only a few days. By the time I knew the burned girl would live and Kathleen would survive and have no lasting damage to her heart, I was worn out. The sun dipped below the horizon when I rose to lean against the window frame and stare out at the Pacific in the distance.

In his novel Suzanne’s Diary for Nicholas, James Patterson artfully highlights where our priorities lie in our personal and professional balancing act: “Imagine life is a game in which you are juggling five balls. The balls are called work, family, health, friends, and integrity. And you’re keeping all of them in the air. But one day you finally come to understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. The other four balls—family, health, friends, integrity—are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be irrevocably scuffed, nicked, perhaps even shattered.

When you are juggling, to catch one ball you need to let go of the others.

The Gaon explains that the juggler in the first story in this book represents a man who has devoted himself entirely to materialism. Like a juggler who concerns himself with nothing else but throwing one ball after the other, materialistic man lives exclusively to juggle activities which afford him gratification. His life is a constant switch between the pursuit of fleshly pleasure and of status and prestige. The King of the universe observes all this with disappointment, for He created him for nobler ends. Finally, he passes judgement on the juggler's antics.

The Conscious Space Human consciousness is not very big. The conscious space that we use to process information about ourselves and others is only able to consider between five to seven units at any one time. It is like a juggler who is confined to juggling only five to seven balls. Any more and the juggler will start dropping the balls and fail in his act. Despite this limitation, the information that is accessible to the conscious space is very large and, for all practical considerations, may be infinite.

I am sure we all know this: Efficiency is doing things right & Effectiveness is doing the right things. But, it doesn’t mean doing pointless things perfectly, efficiently or effectively.. Let’s be honest, Sweetheart. Sometimes we all are just stuck in juggling with balls. This weekend, take a moment to step back & ask yourself: “Is this REALLY the best way to spend my time?” Please, don’t waste your energy on stuff that doesn’t matter.. Darling listen – This weekend, try to be your best version by being effective & efficient in real sense... Stay firm in prayers, be positive, fight for what is yours & wait for your time to come. May you make this weekend amazing & unforgettable! Blessings!

...it's all right to drop a ball. You never know who might step up to catch it.

Remember what Nora Roberts said: some of the balls you’re juggling are made of plastic, the others glass. Drop what you need to drop, Bernie.

Can politics be articulated in a way that’s structural, electric, instead of being dug up again, the boring bit at the bottom of the barrel? I think the clue to this is simultaneity, a sense of wonder at it: that the political can be a PARALLEL SOURCE OF INFORMATION, & more is more: adding an awareness of politics, how things happen, to the mix can just enhance our sense of how the present is exploding into Now Time. I’m thinking of the quote you cite from Levi-Strauss—“a universe of information where the laws of savage thought reign once more.” As if the instantaneous transmission of information can return us to the time-based, finite and deliberate magic of the medieval world. “The Middle Ages were built on seven centuries of ecstacy extending from the hierarchy of angels down into the muck” (Hugo Ball). So when you introduce political information to your texts, it shouldn’t be a matter of “And ye—” “But still—”, as if politics could be the final countervailing word. (I’m thinking of the essay on postmodern retro camp in your book ‘The Ministry Of Fear’.) Politics should be introduced: “And and.” Breathless, keeping it afloat—how much information about one subject can you juggle in two hands?

I describe it to Dr.Eliot this way: I used to want to learn how to juggle two balls. Now I'm tossing around motorcycles, chainsaws, and babies.

Scarlet watched her father across the table in the restaurant he’d taken her to for lunch. Her taut nerves jangled as she tried to work out how to tell him the plans she’d already put into motion. It was going to kill him – she knew this. It would be better for all concerned if she just got it out now, if she was just honest and open and ripped the Band-Aid off quickly. But right now there didn’t seem to be an obvious way into the conversation; her father was unusually distracted. She picked up her sparkling water and took a sip, then glanced down at the menu. ‘So, what’s up?’ she asked. ‘Hm?’ He looked up at her in question. ‘You’ve barely said two words since we left the office. You OK?’ She watched him, concerned. He was never quiet. Even when he was juggling a million things, he was still jovial and on the ball, always talking, always joking in his deep booming voice. ‘I’m fine,’ he answered, plastering

Brian Dyson, former President and CEO of Coca-Cola Enterprises, gave at a Georgia Tech University commencement. He asked the audience to imagine life as a game in which you are juggling five balls in the air named work, family, health, friends, and spirit. He suggested that work is a rubber ball which if dropped will simply bounce back. The other four balls, he suggested, were made of glass. If you drop one, it will be forever scuffed, damaged, or even destroyed.

Everybody is juggling a lot of balls in the air, both personally and professionally. It’s important to know which ones are rubber and will bounce when dropped, and which are glass.

While we all need external structure in our lives—some degree of predictability, routine, organization—those with ADD need it much more than most people. They need external structure so much because they so lack internal structure. They carry with them a frightening sense that their world might cave in at any moment. They often feel on the brink of disaster, as if they were juggling a few more balls than they’re able to. Their inner world begs for reassurance, for signposts and guidelines.

He throws up another ball to juggle. The problem with all the balls is that he might be able to keep them in the air for a while, but he can't get them down into the right box at the right time. Instead, he leaves the room and the juggled balls tumble down right into someone else's lap.

Life is about juggling five balls in the air. They are health, family, friends, integrity and career/achievement.

If it were easy everyone would be doing it”. Juggling balls effectively is part of the challenge, but when you do manage it, the achievement is so much more satisfying.

It was about five balls: life is about juggling five balls in the air. They are health, family, friends, integrity and career/achievement. These balls are not the same; the important thing to remember is that the career ball is made of rubber but the others are more fragile.

It is so easy to overlook the wonder of life until something threatens to snatch it from us. How willingly we sacrifice the days of our lives to trivial distractions-silly computer games, unnecessary errands, useless worry. We get caught up in our own petty concerns and miss the beauty unfolding right in front of us. Rushing headlong into the next thing, we fail to appreciate the blessing of the only thing we can really claim as our own, the present moment. We toss a few balls in the air and start juggling, as fast as we can- all in the effort to do a little more, to exert a bit more control, to feel more secure or more worthy or more accomplished. But there is nothing quite like a critical diagnosis, with its ticket to the world of hospital rooms and treatment plans, to bring all the balls crashing back to earth. Suddenly, when life hangs in the balance, we wish we could have this lost moments back, wish we could live them differently, with more love, more attention, more patience. With more gratitude for all we blindly took for granted. Pg27

Imagine life is a game in which you are juggling five balls. The balls are called work, family, health, friends, and integrity. And you're keeping all of them in the air. But one day you finally come to understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. The other four balls...are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be irrevocably scuffed, nicked, perhaps even shattered.

You are so fucking sexy when you're bossing people around," Jack said, nuzzling my neck as he pulled me behind an azalea bush. "Have you ever done it outdoors?" "Didn't last night count?" We'd sneaked up to the roof of Jack's hotel for a little loving beneath the stars. "There were no trees or bushes, no flowers or grass. I want you naked in the hellebore moaning my name." He pulled me into his chest, squeezing me so hard, my breath came out in a huff. "Jack, you know how much I love sexy times with you. But I've got a minister to ordain, a wedding to run, a heist to plan, a necklace to steal, and a bride to kidnap. I can't juggle any more balls.

Imagine life as a game in which you’re juggling five balls in the air. Let’s name them work, family, health, friends, and spirit. Somehow you’re keeping all those balls in the air. That’s not an easy thing to do. Sound familiar? Sound a little like your life? Well, it definitely sounds like mine. Hopefully, you come to understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will usually bounce back. But the other four balls—family, health, friends, and spirit—are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked, damaged, or even shattered. It will never be the same. Once you understand that, maybe, just maybe, you’ll strive for more balance in your life.

It is essential in war to position your troops in the most favorable site before the battle begins. It is twice as advantageous to take the initiative and attack first rather than wait for the enemy to do so. Assuming an unflinching sword stance to parry an attack is effectively the same as constructing a [protective] fence of pikes and glaives. When you strike the enemy, pull the “fence posts” out and use them as pikes and glaives. Study this carefully. (6) About “Fixing the Gaze” in Other Schools （一、他流に目付と云事） Certain schools maintain that the gaze should be fixed on the enemy’s sword. Others teach students to focus on the hands, the face, the enemy’s feet and so on. Setting your gaze on specific points will cause uncertainty and will adversely affect your strategy. To give another example, players of kemari8 do not focus intently on the ball as they kick it. They can still deflect the ball off their temple and kick it using the bansuri technique9 or keep it afloat with an oimari kick,10 or even a spin kick. As the player becomes more accomplished, he can kick the ball without needing to look at it. The same can be said of acrobats. Someone accustomed to this art can juggle several swords while simultaneously balancing a door on the tip of his nose. He has no need to fix his gaze as he can see what he is doing intuitively through lots of training. Likewise, in the Way of combat strategy, the warrior learns through engaging with different opponents to determine the weight of an enemy’s mind. With practice in the Way, you will come to see everything, from reach to the speed of the sword. Generally speaking, “fixing the gaze” in strategy is to attach it to an enemy’s mind. In large-scale strategy, also, the state and numbers of the enemy must be scrutinized. The two approaches for observing are the eyes of kan (“looking in”) and ken (“looking at”). Intensifying the kan gaze, penetrate the enemy’s mind to discern the conditions. With a widened gaze, examine how the battle is progressing and search for moments of strength and vulnerability. This is the surest way to victory. In both large- and small-scale strategy, refrain from fixing your gaze narrowly. As I have written previously, focusing on minute details will make you forget bigger issues. Your mind will become confused and certain victory will slip from your reach. You must study this principle through careful training.

[...] when faced with a new language, the bilingual has to learn to juggle with three balls, already knowing how to do so with two, while the monolingual has to learn from the beginning.

Life has a way of taking the joy out of living if you let it,” Adelaide said. “I’ve seen so many couples just like you two get beaten down by responsibility and tragedy. And unfortunately, it’s usually only one of them that keeps it all together. Then the one who got off easy complains about the lack of attention while the one who’s been juggling all the balls resents having no help.

: God is not another relationship you have to juggle and manage. He’s not a ball you’re trying to keep in the air. He carries you.

So many times I have tried to get my life under control, and to make changes. So many times I have tried to conquer my weight, to be a better husband, to get a better job, to manage my business and finances better, and I have often felt like a juggling circus clown with one too many balls (or chainsaws) spinning in the air. I’m learning that we cannot do everything at once.

hidden from the pedestrians who wandered across to buy discount Viagra; it was deeper into the town, the disorder, the ruinous buildings, the litter, the donkeys cropping grass by the roadside. Reynosa was not its plaza, but rather another hot, dense border town of hard-up Mexicans who spent their lives peering across the frontier, easily able to see—through the slats in the fence, beyond the river—better houses, brighter stores, newer cars, cleaner streets, and no donkeys. At the first stoplight at the intersection of a potholed road of Reynosa, a fat, middle-aged man in shorts and wearing clown makeup—whitened face, red bulb nose, lipsticked mouth—began to juggle three blue balls as the light turned red, and a small girl in a tattered dress, obviously his daughter, passed him a teapot which he balanced on his chin. The small girl hurried to the waiting cars, soliciting pesos. At the next light, a man in sandals and rags juggled three bananas and flexed his muscles while making lunatic faces. A woman hurried from car to car with a basket, offering tamales. Farther on was a fire-eater, a skinny man in pink pajamas gulping smoky flames from a torch.

She gave me a look, amused at herself even as she told her story. “Was curious. Stayed to see how man make fire-ring. Then he juggle fire-balls for me. Make friend. I like man, so I stay.

air,” Miss Small said. “This will improve your eye-hand coordination. With a little practice, you’ll be able to juggle three balls, or three clubs, or three

The Ballad of Philippe Petit —for the world's greatest rope dancer Philippe Petit hangs his high wire in the third eye of God, fills the dull air with blue fire, all alone on the big city street, Little Phillip, Philippe Petit. Philippe Petit, high priest of daring, feels wind pulse in his feet, flying high on his mystical string, between tall towers above the street. Little Phillip, Philippe Petit. Little Phillip by the Golden Fleece, making Seventh Avenue sing. He draws a magic circle of chalk, rides his cycle around in a ring, Little Phillip, Philippe Petit. Little Phillip, clown gargoyle, spewing light on the grey street, rope dances twirling sticks of fire, bright sparkle of the dark street, Little Phillip, Philippe Petit. Philippe Petit juggles fire and balls, winks at Zeus, laughs at Mars, pulls Newton's beard, sups with God, cycling his way from heaven to street. Little Phillip, Philippe Petit. Little Phillip, when we get there, you'll surely be on high, juggling molecules for your maker on the wide streets of the sky, Little Phillip, Philippe Petit. Philippe Petit, The King of Heaven has a brilliant little fool juggling fire at his footstool. A light on the dark city street, A light, a light, Philippe Petit.

Jennifer Lynn Barnes, a YA author tweeted: One time, I was at a Q&A with Nora Roberts, and someone asked her how to balance writing and kids, and she said that the key to juggling is to know that some of the balls you have in the air are made of plastic & some are made of glass.

Nora's walk to work was a kind of labor of love, too, of that love for the city that occasionally wavered or dimmed but had never gone away. She tended to see always the same people, the Sikh bicyclist with his two small children in a seat on the back, the man who ran while nonchalantly juggling three fluorescent green tennis balls. It was as though they all knew one another without knowing anything about one another, so that if for a week or two Tennis Ball Man did not appear Nora would find herself wondering if he was on vacation, or had moved to another neighborhood, or something worse, a broken hip , a heart attack.

The list goes on, and the only thing I’ve said NO to was having a live tiger at an open house—that’s just going too far. But it was that first big deal with Mr. X that showed me the true power of YES when it comes to making volume sales. I sell more because I say YES when other people would say no, and I can keep moving a client forward until that deal is done. Saying yes to every opportunity was my way of believing in myself and showing everyone I was the best—even when I wasn’t. I’ve also learned that quickly flipping negatives into positives will help you close deals faster and more frequently. Sometimes this is as simple as asking yourself, “Is this negative really even a negative?” For example, if I’m selling an apartment with no light I’ll push this as a positive to a client who is almost never home, or only home at night. Why pay for a view you won’t even see? Take the time to think about the usual objections you have in your area of sales; it’s likely you’ll hear the same objections over and over. How can you show clients that this isn’t really a negative? How can you turn this around? Anticipating objections and immediately turning them into positives will result in you selling more. Get ready to juggle more balls and cash bigger checks! AN UNEXPECTED SALES WEAPON: IMPROV If you visited my office on a random Monday morning during our team meeting, you might think you had mistakenly walked into a circus or a lunatic asylum.

In my experience of human behaviour (and I've seen all there is to see, it's fair to say), I've concluded there aren't but five motivations for a man to do anything. They're hardly mysterious, you know: money, hunger, lust, power, survival. That's all there is. You hear in the courtrooms and in the cinema all sorts of fancy-dress explanations why someone becomes Prime Minister or kills his neighbours. But if you listen hard, it's all just the same five balls, juggled up in the air, decorated with distracting words. No one ever did a damn thing but for one of those five.

Earth, demon realm, I don't give a shit where. I always have your back." His brows furrowed. "Did you really think otherwise?" "No, but sometimes I feel like I'm living in this crazy big top, riding on the back of an elephant while spinning plates and juggling balls. And I look out at you, the one person in the audience who I always find, who I always make sure is there, and I wonder if today is the day when you'll tire of the circus.