I find I have the habit of extremes...extremes of thought and opinion, extremes of action, extremes of emotion or lack thereof. My therapist constantly discusses "balance." You need to find the "balance" in your life, Rachel.

It's true, I know. But part of balance is the centered-ness of self-assurance.

Eyes are truly a window to the soul.

I've met people who have achieved extremes, and those who have found balance, perhaps at one end or the other.

I was, for a time, involved with a man, a boy, really, who had the eyes of a Ted Bundy, of a Jeffrey Dahmer. Empty eyes that seem to sink away hollowly into darkness, beyond which no one else can go. He was somewhat wild, often reckless, rarely stable. I've seen those eyes once or twice since -- invariably the thing behind the eyes barely resembles human. I do my best to stay clear...I've not got the strength to help the shadows ease away.

On the other side of the spectrum there are those who have eyes that are so filled with expression that a thousand years can be found therein. Once, while I worked on a theatre project that would eventually shape a great deal of my life to come, I participated in an exercise with a schoolmate whom I had known for several years. Our director asked us to look into one another's eyes and "take in" the other person. When we had finished, my partner remarked to me that he had never known I was such a sad person. He was right, of course, but I hadn't realized I let it escape. There is little balance between inner feelings and outward sharing for me.

At another time, many years later, as I prepared for a production of Fiddler on the Roof, presented by a local Roman Catholic church, I met a man who by all appearances had found balance. He rented the church hall each week in order to teach some form or other of the martial arts. His students responded to him with near military precision, but when he spoke with me as he packed up after class, I discovered what "centered" looks like in human form.

As much as I wistfully admire the perfection of finding one's center, I'm not quite sure it's where I'd be happy. I like the extremes, the changes, the unusual and unexpected. There is perhaps nothing I fear more than boredom.

So my eyes may sometimes reflect away into the depths of sadness...I've had a great deal of sadness in my life, and I haven't always stopped to let myself feel it. But sometimes my eyes glimmer deeply with pride...most notably when a one-time student of mine returns to tell me of his or her triumphs and achievements. Sometimes they even allow a little happiness to come near the surface, though pure joy is still a stretch. And the only time they come close to hollowness is when it all gets to be a little much and someone's looking just a little too closely...emptiness is much easier than running away.

Perhaps a little balance wouldn't be so bad, once in a while.