What’s in a Word?

What’s in a word?

Finding My Equilibrium: A Journey of Balance

Lately, I’ve been thinking about balance—not the kind you find on a tightrope, but the deeper kind that sustains us. It’s the balance between soft and strong, between being and doing, between inhaling the world’s offerings and exhaling what I have to give. It’s a dance we’re all in, whether we realise it or not.

For me, this journey towards equilibrium started with a simple question: How much is enough? Enough work, enough rest, enough joy. The truth was, I had lost that knowing. I’d been so focused on doing—meeting deadlines, supporting others, ticking off to-do lists—that I hadn’t paused to breathe deeply, let alone ask if my life felt balanced.

It connects with Te Whare Tapa Whā, a model of well-being created by the amazing Mason Durie. Like a whare (house), our lives are built on four pillars: taha tinana (physical well-being), taha wairua (spiritual well-being), taha whānau (family and social well-being), and taha hinengaro (mental and emotional well-being). When one pillar is weak or neglected, the whole structure can feel unsteady. My whare wasn’t collapsing, but it wasn’t solid either.

One Sunday afternoon, I decided to begin the journey of recalibration. I pulled out my notebook and divided the page into two columns: “Mahi” (work) and “Rest”. Under mahi, I listed the tasks I knew were necessary but draining. Under rest, I jotted down what recharged me—reading, painting, walking by the sea. The mahi column was longer, but seeing them side by side reminded me I had choices.

That week, I began to weave in rest more deliberately. After an intense meeting, I took five minutes to just breathe and look at the sky. On a busy Wednesday evening, I set aside time to journal, not because I had to, but because it felt good. These weren’t grand gestures, but they were enough to feel the shift.

I realised that equilibrium isn’t a perfect balance—it’s a constant practice. It’s noticing when you’ve leaned too far into one side and gently pulling yourself back. It’s recognising that being and doing aren’t opposites; they’re partners in a life well-lived.

Some days, I still get it wrong. The mahi piles up, and rest feels like a luxury I can’t afford. But now, I’m quicker to pause, breathe, and ask myself: What does my whare need right now?

Equilibrium isn’t about doing less; it’s about living more intentionally. It’s about embracing both the inhale and the exhale, the soft and the strong, the mahi and the rest.

It’s a journey, and like all journeys, it begins with a single step. For me, that step was asking, How much is enough? Maybe it’s time you asked too.

Arohanui,
Mary-Anne