Balance isn’t perfect — even in Nature 🌗

Hi friends,

Today is the Fall Equinox — the time when day and night come closest to equal length.

Most of us think the equinox means exactly 12 hours of day and 12 hours of night everywhere on Earth. And it’s true — this is the closest the Earth ever comes to balance. But here’s the surprising part: because our atmosphere bends the light, we actually get a little extra daylight.

So even nature’s best example of “balance” isn’t a perfect 50/50 split.

That’s the lesson I want us to carry: balance is not about equal parts. Not in the sky, not in the land, and not in our lives.

Here in the Northeast, balance looks like the trees shedding their leaves to survive the winter, or geese flying fully south when the season changes. They don’t stay the same all year — they shift with the season.

Our ancestors lived this wisdom, too. We may not know the precise language of our ancestral lands — the ways our families once read the seas, the birds, or the winds across the islands of the Philippines — but what they passed to us is even more powerful: the ability to adapt. To respond to the land we’re on, and to care for it in return.

That same adaptability lives in us today. And this is the lesson I return to again and again in my own life: letting go of the narrative that I’m “failing” if I don’t meet some fixed idea of balance — like exercising, journaling, cooking, resting — all in perfect rhythm, all the time. Life doesn’t always move that way.

Whose definition of balance am I following — and is it truly mine?

The truth is, balance shifts. The routine that worked last season — or even in the middle of a demanding week of travel, deadlines, or caregiving — may not fit the season we’re in today. When life changes, recalibration is wise. Rather than judging ourselves, we can practice compassion: remembering that balance isn’t lost, it’s being redefined.

And still, nature reminds us that change belongs to rhythm. The trees release their leaves, yet return each spring. The geese fly south, yet always circle back. Even the equinox — brief as it is — arrives faithfully twice each year. Balance lives in both: the small adjustments each season asks of us  and the larger cycles we can trust to return.

In the same way, our routines may need to shift in the short term — but what grounds us is the consistency of returning to practice, again and again, in whatever form the season allows.

As you step into this season, I invite us to reflect: What rhythm is life asking me to honor right now — and how might I adapt with compassion?