I’ve been trying to figure out this balance thing for a while. In saying that, I feel like I’m always doing. In my mind, I’ve been trying to “be.” But even the trying negates what it means to just be. Having control is not actually as comfortable as I thought. Being in charge is exhausting. Regulating, dictating, allocating, distributing…it’s not agency. It’s addiction. It’s insecurity. It’s fear.

How does balance factor into all of this? To be balanced is to be still and even. To be unmoved yet in flux that is consistent enough to not disturb. It is to flow. It is to trust.

I’ve been actively manifesting a reality beyond the scope of my previous personal experience. I realized the other day that I had achieved this in part. I found myself standing in a place in life that I wasn’t sure that I was dressed appropriately enough for, that I had the right kind of shoes on, that I had the right skill set to maintain it. All I knew was that I was there. I was here, in the space that had previously only existed in my imagination.

And I was scared. I was afraid enough to retreat, to go back to where I came, back to the place that I almost met my creative death.

Once I got over the initial shock of it all, I found that I had two questions to answer.

The first was whether or not what I manifested was suitable for me. Joy, that is. Am I suited for happiness and healthy coping skills? Am I suited for abundance, for motivation, for an affirming community?

Whether I was suited or not was entirely dependent upon me. I searched everywhere outside of myself to answer this question, but it was completely up to me. 

The second question was whether or not I was worthy of what I manifested.

Did I deserve wellness? Did I deserve to not be punished for the past? Did I deserve to not be punished for somebody else’s past? Did I deserve love? 

Answering these questions was painful. I did not know how broken I was until wholeness presented itself as an attainable possibility.

And I didn’t really know that wholeness really was a possibility in the first place.

I believed, but I didn’t know.

Faith is a funny thing. It’s another reality in itself. It’s like a beloved pen pal you meet on the street by accident. Suddenly the magic is gone, and the idea you came to love is no longer appealing embodied in the flesh.

They were just words, words that made you feel good. But the well out of which they came seemed too much work to maintain.

But after much thought and consideration, after watching the past and present wrestle in the deepest part of my stomach, I came to a conclusion.

In this moment, I am giving myself permission to act as judge and jury for the trial I felt necessary to endure.

I have decided that I am suited for this, and I have decided that I am worthy of it, too.

And I have decided to trust my judgment on it. All parts of myself are in agreement that this is right.

I have decided that I trust the thing inside me that knows nothing other than equilibrium, that knows nothing other than balance, that moves me into the flow of my destiny when allowed to do so.

I am trusting the divinity that moves me out of myself in order for me to remember myself.

I am trusting joy.

I am no longer trusting anxiety.

I am no longer consulting with fear.

Because what is familiar might be fatal.

I know it is.

The unknown that has finally revealed itself has given life.

That’s what I’m trusting.

I’m trusting the fruits of my imagination.

Published by Karla Felecia Scaife

A lover of animals, beautiful things, and books written by Black women, Karla is a musical artist and writer currently residing in Nashville, TN. Karla holds a Master of Theological Studies from Vanderbilt Divinity School.

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