By Tawnia Lives

The body has always known what balance feels like—
even when the world forgot.

She remembers rhythm.
She remembers pause.

She remembers how to stretch without splitting,
how to move without losing herself.

Balance was never meant to be rigid or perfectly measured.

It was always meant to feel like breath.

But somewhere along the way, we tried to turn balance into math—
equal chores, shared calendars, fifty-fifty everything.

As if fairness could be calculated.

As if care could be divided into neat portions.

But the body doesn’t count that way.

She understands that fairness isn’t numbers.

It’s care that circulates.

It’s noticing who is tired before they collapse.
It’s resting together before someone burns out alone.

It’s saying, I can take this one—
not because you must,
but because you can.

The body knows something we often forget:

Balance changes.

Some seasons ask more from one person.
Other seasons return the breath to the other.

Balance is not static.

It is a living thing—
tender, shifting, constantly relearned through attention and care.

The body does not ask for perfection.

She asks for permission.

Permission to rest.
Permission to recover.
Permission to be human without apology.

So let her lead again.

Let her set the rhythm.

She will tell you when enough is enough,
when love needs space,
when stillness is the next right thing.

Because the truth is simpler than we were taught:

Balance isn’t something you build through control.

It’s something you return to
when you stop pretending you can do it all.

The body remembers how to rest.
The heart remembers how to listen.

And when the two finally move together—

that isn’t balance as the world defines it.

That is balance as the body lives it:

quiet,
fluid,
enough.

— Tawnia Lives