Because of the kind of people and organisations I follow on Twitter and Facebook, my timeline is often a constant stream of quotes and sayings - meaningful, motivational extracts of other people's judiciously applied words. Occasionally, I'll pounce on one that I'd like to have said if I'd been witty or wise enough. 

For example, this evening: 
"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right doing, there is a field. I will meet you there". That one caught in the net. 

I don't know exactly what Rumi meant, but to me, that says liberation, the idea of freeing yourself from judgement and finding the space to connect purely and simply, in forgiveness and acceptance. Beautiful. 

However, most of the time all these valuable thoughts just flow past me with, at most, a skim read. And I know that means there's probably a whole heap of wisdom just falling off the bottom of my screen - but this is the problem: when it comes to quotes, sometimes there are just too many of them. Line after line of mindfulness that, after a while, becomes meaningless white noise. 

And then I see dead people. That timeline is full of them. Wise, but dead. And it's a little like being in solitary confinement with a very well-written book to read.

Now don't get me wrong - I love quotes. I have a folder full of them and a good one appears like illumination in a sloeblack, crowblack sky… Mostly they're quoted by someone I admire for the powerful, seductive, expressive way they create shapes with language.

But there are times when that online deluge creates something of a feeding frenzy and gathering 'great quotes' and adding them to a collection becomes more important than taking them on board. This is when quote watching is more like waiting for a beautiful butterfly to land so you can stake it with a pin and put it in a box on the wall. 

Words need the room to breathe, to live, to fly. This takes time and space which they don't get when they become a flood. 

Simply put, the more I am told, the less I hear, but when I take the time to feel something, it lingers, unfolds and connects with something inside me. There is so much wisdom in the world, but sometimes creating space, without words, is the best way to let the knowledge you have take shape. 

However, if I had to choose between having that background noise of illumination and inspiration or not, I admit I'd take the background noise. 

There are times when those inspirational quotes appear with the frequency of fireworks on bonfire night - but I like fireworks. If ever I do something important in my life, I want there to be fireworks. And so why not have the written equivalent on an ongoing basis? 

OK, so sometimes the rocket will misfire or fail to catch, but I'd sooner have a good supply of words designed to inspire and motivate than a set put together to ridicule and belittle. I'd rather have quotes about love than headlines of frustration and anger and I'd rather have a backdrop of positivity than an ongoing moan. Really, there's no contest.

And today, as it often is, my favourite quote is this one from Anais Nin: "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom". Because it means something to me. 

But really that's all these quotes are ever about - helping us identify a little bit of ourselves that we want to acknowledge and be proud of.

If you’ve ever doubted the importance of environment on your state of mind, I suggest moving house.

From a place of relative order and the reassurance of familiar surroundings, it drops you unceremoniously into chaos, empty rooms and the need to retrieve normality from a multitude of cardboard boxes – a situation that is both exciting and a little overwhelming.

Watching those boxes disappear off down the road in the back of a van felt a little like seeing my life vanish into a wormhole, only to have it re-emerge in roughly the same shape, but in a completely different space and time.

As those boxes were unpacked, I wondered what they really stood for, what role their contents really played in my life. Did I really need all those things? After all, it would have been a lot easier to just sling them instead of spending hours wrapping them carefully in old news.

And for that short time when they were out of sight in the wormhole, who was I then, without my stuff, without my home - aside from free?

Of course many of these things have value to me - but it was a moment of checking in. Why do they matter? If I didn’t have them, what would my life be like really?

I’ve also been without Internet access for the last few weeks, so even the normal rules of communication haven’t applied.  And actually it’s been really good. It’s felt like space to think, a slower pace, less demands. The inconvenience has been marginal compared to the resulting sense of being untethered.

So midway on the road from A to B, I thought about the fact that I had the potential to unpack and stay the same or take the opportunity to do a few things differently and better.

There are, of course, practical changes I’d like to make. Once and for all I’d like to get on top of my paper filing ‘system’. I have far too many emails that could be deleted without the risk of seismic tremors and, quite frankly, the charity shop could benefit from me travelling a little lighter in the clothes department… But before any of that is possible, other things need to happen.

I’m tired. My body now has a place to relax and unwind, so I need to gather my resources and let it do what it needs to do.

This new phase in my life has been pending for several months – an event waiting on the horizon. Certain aspects of routine and normality had been put on hold, waiting for the new start. Now life feels much more free flowing. I have an open stretch of future potential. Of course that was always there, but I couldn’t see it - there was a house move in the way.

So… Rest. Organise. Plan.

There are friends to see again, family to reconnect with – people I thought about among the boxes, amazing people to be woven into my new life like gold threads in a tapestry or the bubbles in champagne…

And so the future begins again. And again. A constant process of renewal that’s not limited to the times of wormholes and boxes, files and bookshelves… I can always choose to shed a skin and start afresh. It’s something worth remembering. 

In the concluding moments of Eat Pray Love: the movie version, Elizabeth Gilbert contemplates the role of balance in her life.

By the time she reaches Bali, the final stage of her journey, she thinks she knows what it's all about: daily meditation, cycling through the sensual landscape of an island paradise and spending time with her spiritual mentor. In short, keeping things very, very simple.

She's miles away from the bold sexuality of Rome where her journey began or the ambitious cut and thrust of New York, home to her failed marriage. With so few distractions, control and discipline are easy. She has 'balance' - but she might as well have been walking a tight rope.

With a gust of wind from outside - a love affair that swept her off her feet - that calm, poise and peacefulness became fragile, breakable and vulnerable; she's suddenly afraid of falling.

What this shows so beautifully is that it's just not possible to exercise complete control over your life AND be a part of the real world, because when you're engaging with life to the full - really and truly taking part - stuff happens to you. And actually even if you're trying not to be an active participant, stuff still happens, good and bad. Relationships come and go, work stress rises and falls and numerous temptations, problems and distractions appear to knock us off balance.

This means that seeking a permanent state of perfect equilibrium is a tall order. A more useful skill - and a kinder one too - is being able to notice when you're off balance and then knowing how to steady yourself.

By paying attention to your physical, emotional, mental and spiritual state, you'll know when action is required - and by checking in with yourself regularly, that action can take the form of gentle adjustments rather than a seismic shift to get yourself back on track.

Balance takes practice and some days, you'll be better at it than others, but here are a few thoughts that could make it easier.

TAKE A DEEP BREATH
Breathing is not a revolutionary new concept and this suggestion is unlikely to be breaking news, but breathing properly - actually doing it - can make a world of difference. So take a few long, slow, deep breaths - ones that go right down into your stomach.

That oxygen hit affects every part of the body, eliminating toxins, revitalising organs, cells and tissue and reducing stress. It unifies the body, steadying the heart rate, inviting a sense of calm and relieving tension. It's so much harder to make a wrong decision when your breathe properly.

BE A GOOD LISTENER
Once you've taken a few deep breaths, feel your heartbeat. It provides the body's dominant rhythm and synchronises every part of you, so tune in and ask: What do I need NOW to feel more balanced? And then listen to the answer.

It may be a conversation that's required, a moment to yourself, a cup of tea, a hug, a session at the gym, a night in or an evening out. Your answer might involve ending a relationship, finding a new job or simply spending time with someone who loves you.

Needs may change on an hourly basis, but the benefits of listening - and responding - to yourself will be constant.

GET SOME PERSPECTIVE
Take a step back and look at your life as a whole. How do the most important aspects of it balance out?

It may help to divide it up under a few headings, for example:

• Friends
• Family
• Romantic relationships
• Health & Fitness
• Work & Money
• Personal development
• Social life

Is there one area that's dominating the rest? Are there other areas that need more attention? How could you do this? Work out where you have room for manoeuvre.

A few small changes might be all that's required to make a big difference.