You have to keep your sanity as well as know how to distance

When Diahann Carroll spoke the words, “You have to keep your sanity as well as know how to distance yourself from it while still holding onto the reins tightly. That is a very difficult thing to do, but I'm learning,” she revealed a truth that few understand until they have walked through the fire of pressure, fame, or struggle. These words are not merely about control—they are about balance, about the delicate art of living fully in the world without letting the world consume your soul. In her voice is both the strength of discipline and the tenderness of humility. She speaks not as one who has mastered life, but as one who is still learning, still refining the ancient craft of endurance.

The origin of this wisdom lies in Carroll’s own journey—a journey marked by brilliance and burden. She was a trailblazer, the first African American woman to star in her own television series, Julia, in an era when the world was not yet ready to see such representation. With every step she took into the spotlight, she carried not only her own dreams but the expectations and scrutiny of a generation. The reins she speaks of are the reins of identity and integrity, held tightly amid the storm of attention, judgment, and demand. To keep one’s sanity, she learned, is not to shut out the world, but to stay centered within it—to move with grace between involvement and detachment, presence and preservation.

To hold the reins is to guide your own destiny; to distance yourself is to remember that you are not the role you play, nor the applause you receive, nor the criticism you endure. Carroll knew that one could lose oneself easily in the glare of fame, in the chaos of striving, or even in the endless effort to meet the expectations of others. Her wisdom is thus universal—for though not all may walk the stage or stand before cameras, each of us must navigate the theatre of life. To live without losing oneself is the work of the spirit; to act without attachment is the way of wisdom.

History too whispers of souls who wrestled with this same struggle. Consider Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-king of ancient Rome. Surrounded by power, war, and the weight of empire, he wrote in his Meditations: “You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” He, like Carroll, knew that sanity must be guarded like a flame in a storm. To rule wisely, he had to remain both engaged in duty and distant from desire. He learned to walk the narrow bridge between control and surrender, between the noise of the world and the silence of the inner self.

To keep your sanity, then, is not to flee from life, but to see it with clarity. It means knowing when to engage and when to let go, when to fight and when to rest. It is to face the chaos without becoming chaotic, to dwell in the midst of noise and still hear the quiet voice of truth within. Carroll’s confession—“but I’m learning”—is not weakness but wisdom. It is the admission that balance is not a destination but a discipline, learned and relearned each day. Even the strongest must remind themselves to breathe, to step back, to find the calm center beneath the motion.

In her words, there is also a lesson about self-preservation—that to sustain your purpose, you must protect your peace. Many fall because they forget to rest, because they let the world pull them too tightly in one direction until they break. The reins, if held too loosely, bring chaos; if pulled too hard, they snap. The mastery of life lies not in perfection, but in rhythm. One must learn to ride the storm without becoming it. This is the art Carroll was learning, the art every human being must one day master—to steer life’s chariot with steady hands and an unshaken heart.

So let this truth be spoken to those who will come after: Hold on—but not too tightly. Engage—but do not be consumed. Love—but do not lose yourself in what you love. The world will always demand more of you than you can give; your task is to give wisely, not endlessly. Step back when the noise grows too loud; breathe when the burden grows too heavy. For to keep your sanity is not selfish—it is sacred. It is the foundation from which all true greatness flows.

Thus, in Diahann Carroll’s words lies the eternal wisdom of balance: to walk through the fire and not be burned, to stand in the storm and not lose your footing. It is a lesson learned not once, but always. And so, like her, we too must say—not with despair, but with grace—“I am learning.” For as long as we are learning, we are growing; and as long as we are growing, we are alive in the truest and most beautiful sense.