I was standing in the chocolate aisle at the natural foods store in Wichita early on a Friday afternoon, poised to meet the challenge of choosing snacks for my weekend retreat, when my cell phone rang. It was Billie Blair, director of the Tallgrass Retreat Center, asking if I'd seen the weather report.

It was raining hard, the weather service had issued flood warnings and the rivers and streams surrounding Matfield Green were rapidly rising. One participant had already called to say that she wasn't going to risk the drive that afternoon, so we didn't deliberate much before deciding to cancel the retreat in the name of safety.

Regretfully, I diverted my gaze from the dazzling array of organic, fair-trade chocolate and drove 60 miles through the pouring rain back to my little office on the prairie. I wrote a short email to the would-be-Balance-retreaters, confirmed that the event could be rescheduled, and then -- responsibilities taken care of -- my heart did a little leap of delight as I realized that nature had just offered me a weekend at home with my family with no plans and no commitments.

So, when life offers you unexpected free time, take it!

As I stepped outside, the afternoon sky seemed to give me a knowing wink, like a kindly grandmother who'd taken care of my chores so that I could throw down my backpack and run right out to play. The day was beginning to clear, but I brushed off the thought that we had cancelled the retreat prematurely. "What's done is done," I said to myself, and redirected my mind to appreciating this gift of time to play with the baby, go for a walk, cook that beautiful butternut squash that has been languishing on our kitchen counter, and do a little bit of reflection of my own. In that moment, I experienced a revitalizing breath of what could almost be called balance.

In the last few years I've discovered that there is no such thing as a balanced life. Fulfillment and joy are the result of risk and experimentation. If you want to live a good life you must continually allow yourself to be thrown off balance -- by the complexity of your work, by your commitment to love your children well, by romantic love, or by your willingness to try to resolve a community conflict that may just prove intractable.

The most you can hope for as you tip from one point of balance to another, are moments of centered presence.

Presence means you are prepared to be and do your best, whatever the situation demands. Presence means having the inner resources to keep from getting whipped into an anxious frenzy when faced with the choice between what is urgent and what is important. Presence empowers you to step back from overwhelm, re-inhabit your body, and reconnect with the calm at the center of your self. Presence means being awake and aware of your life as you live it.

Cultivate your own centered presence.

Presence is the result of rest, reflection, and breath. The body that is sleep-deprived cannot experience presence. The self that does not know who she is, what she cares about, or whom she loves cannot experience presence. The mind that is deprived of the healthy flow of oxygen cannot be present with itself.

One way to cultivate centered presence is to seize the little gifts of free time that life throws your way. The next time someone cancels something -- whether it's a half hour meeting, an evening out, or a three-day business trip -- resist the rush to fill the time with other obligations. Instead, use it to practice being present for your life.

Here are three suggestions to get you started.

1. REST. If you need a nap, take it. If a shift of perspective would rest your mind, make it.

2. REFLECT. Open your journal and write something in it. You can start with the questions in the left-hand column of this newsletter, or in the paragraph below.

3. BREATHE. The next time a meeting gets rescheduled at the last minute, take 5 minutes of the suddenly unscheduled time to just sit still and breathe. Or, if it's more your style, get outside and take a breathful walk.

P.S. Do the Hokey Pokey.

I have been leading some variation of the retreat called Balance: The Delicate Dance between Work, Family and the Rest of Your Life since 2004. It may be time to revise the title to focus on the idea of centered presence, but as a former physical theatre artist, I enjoy the questions implicit within it:

What do you experience (physically, spiritually, emotionally) when you imagine dancing between your work, your family, your inner self, and all of the other joys and responsibilities of life?

What kind of music is playing in your head as you imagine your dance?

Are you a prima ballerina in a featured solo, are you dancing with a partner, or are you in a chorus?

Is it more like a square dance, a grand waltz, the Chicken Dance, the Macarena, or something completely original?

What would it be like to step out of whatever you are dancing and into the pose my modern dance teacher called "Creative Rest?"

I like to think of my life as a series of overlapping rounds of The Hokey-Pokey -- I move, I rest, I interact with other people, and I often get so excited that I make a fool of myself. And I love every minute of it. You put your whole self in.

You put your whole self out. You put your whole self in and you shake it all about. You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself around. That's what it's all about.