Balance - A Poem

Balance - A Poem

I used to think balance was a destination. It’s existence the concept of perfection where I could be at peace and finally rest.

The home of a thousand hours. It’s minutes coins in my pocket and I could decide their power .  

Ideal calibration, and things like desire and pleasure were never measured in its distillation.


But instead I found exception. 

Broken things that needed fixing on  weekends. 


Discovering that balance was never captured in singularity but defined by it’s ability to move .

A continual push and release. Between two sides. With the hopes of spending most of the time in the middle.  

Weekly Planning Hacks

Weekly Planning Hacks

Introverted Intuition (Ni) Unconscious Vs Conscious

Introverted Intuition (Ni) Unconscious Vs Conscious