India, Oct. 24 -- If I gave you a pencil and asked you to balance it on your finger, what would you do? You'd probably start by looking at it, its shape, its weight, the eraser on the one end and the pointed tip on the other. Then, slowly, you'd try to find the centre. Maybe it wouldn't work the first time, maybe it would wobble or fall. But eventually, through a bit of patience and presence, the pencil would steady itself. That's what balance is, just the moment where opposing forces meet and hold steady. Life is not very different. We can't truly understand balance unless we've touched both our extremes, the good and the bad. You need to know both your anger and your kindness. Your joy and your sorrow. Your light and your shadow. The part of you that's insecure, messy, and unsure, and the part that's secure, composed, and clear. The more you let yourself feel both ends, the better you start to understand the space in between. We are often taught the opposite. To stay calm, be good, smile and think positive. But balance isn't about being composed all the time. When we keep shutting down parts of ourselves, we end up mistaking suppression for strength, and then we wonder why we feel so off-centre. We talk about balance like it's something out there to be achieved, a perfect routine, a well-designed lifestyle. But more often, it lives in the quiet, sometimes messy awareness of what's going on inside us. Carl Jung once said, "Wholeness is not achieved by cutting off a portion of one's being, but by integration of the contraries." This is exactly where balance begins not in rejection, but in recognition. Not by holding on to only the good bits, but by allowing all parts of ourselves to exist without shame. Think of a seesaw. It doesn't work with weight on just one side. It needs contrast, movement and rhythm. The same applies to our inner world. If you silence your sorrow to appear strong, or hide your fear to look composed, you're not becoming more stable, you're becoming more fragile. Real balance isn't static, it breathes and shifts. Like riding a bicycle, you only stay upright because you're constantly adjusting. Left pedal, right pedal, left again. It's a dance of presence and it begins with honesty. Remember, you are not just one thing, not just peace, or productivity, or politeness. You are a vast, living field of ever-changing emotions and experiences. You've been soft, you've been stubborn. You've cared deeply, and you've also withdrawn. All of it is you, all of it belongs. If you're feeling scattered lately, maybe pause and ask, which part of me have I been suppressing? Have I allowed myself to feel what I'm really feeling? Or have I just been trying to keep it all together? Sometimes the way back to the centre isn't by doing more. Sometimes, it's in stopping, in listening. In letting yourself feel what's alive in you without trying to fix it right away. So, the next time life feels heavy, remember the pencil. Hold your experience gently, look at both ends, and trust that the centre is there, simply waiting to be found. You don't need to be perfect to be balanced. You just need to be willing to look at the whole of who you are. And maybe that's what healing really is, not the removal of difficult phases, but the ability to meet all parts of ourselves, and still stand....