Moments upon moments have drifted onto our pages, forming an inside community whose inhabitants use our feelings to move around the meanings of our words and even though some of our terms are thought to be bright, not all of their energy prevents storms from bumping us into the shadows.
Sometimes hope hurts because dragons lean close to whisper about all the past ones that didn’t go as planned and how we are still grieving those times.
Sometimes hope hurts because we are confident about yesterday’s stumbles and unsure of the possibilities in an unknown tomorrow.
Sometimes hope hurts because desires are things that we make up as we go along but expectations lack the nourishment that imagination needs in order to make those seeds grow.
Sometimes hope hurts because whether it goes as we wish or not, we still won’t have figured out how to be easy with ourselves.
Sometimes hope hurts because there’s something about giving our all and not being sure that our all prepares us enough if dreams were to show up.
Sometimes hope hurts because we want change, but the weather of our emotions and thoughts sees value in our playing it safe regardless of how clear the path ahead may be.
Sometimes hope hurts because there are so many ways to be lost in the noise of the crowd that it’s hard to recognize that even weeds in a garden line the way for wishes.
Sometimes hope hurts because in wanting different today, there’s a vulnerability in acknowledging that we probably still haven’t forgiven ourselves for being in the same spot in another location on a separate day.
Sometimes hope hurts because we aren’t just reading our stories, we are also writing them and up until this very moment, our artistry seems to have snuffed out the light and muddied the colors.
Sometimes hope hurts because while it’s filled with the beauty of optimism, its impermanence means that it has to keep being redefined as life does its life-ing thing and our communities hold even longer lists.
This is me and even though hope looks the same when we talk about it, the energy of the inside community plans whether tears fall because sometimes hope hurts or that there will be drops of moisture nourished by a laughter that is as warm and bright as the sun.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
There are many days when we lean more towards a certain way of feeling and thinking for reasons that take up more space than any other possibilities that could also show up to clasp our hand.
And in going the distance that we do with what bumps us into the darkness, silence about the weariness of our journeys becomes a form of survival when in the presence of those who don’t seem to live with noises as loud as we do.
Because trying to make sense of the chaos by hanging on to what others have come to know in their lives leaves us unable to know how we could possibly hold ourselves safely in what actually exists while also wishing for just one more moment of noiselessness.
We have, after all, felt the destruction and painstakingly labeled ourselves with what was left on the inside, including the energy of each fallen tear from unwanted things.
But even though we have proven to have a proficiency for doing it with the shadows that moved in and never left, it hasn’t meant that there is something wrong, only that we haven’t learned to trust that we have been facing it all with a durability that is our own.
Long ago, my strength was hanging from a tree and having the scrapes to prove that it had been done.
Later on, some type of messy resilience appeared as fear screamed as hard as it could on the inside at the challenges that were before me on the outside.
After that, my toughness was trying not to spill onto anyone other than myself the level of anger that I felt but of course that never truly worked.
Then that power showed up as I stood alone as grief brutally enfolded me from a loss that others didn’t understand and even though I wanted them to feel me, they never could in a manner that would lighten the load that had become mine to have and to hold.
Force, then propped me up because while life went on around me, I was leaning heavily into the torn pieces of my home that were too big to be fixed with hugs and the kind of band-aids that skinned knees can be.
But now I have a friend that knew me when trees were an easy display of strength and over the years of being sculpted by debris and dragons, and not once has it cared how I looked while doing any of it, only that I would eventually realize that it was all being done with a durability that is mine alone to define.
This is me and I am slowly meeting the blooming meanings behind every one of my words and the scariest as well as the brightest part is that my artistry is unlike any other despite any similarities and that is how I am learning to build the term safety within my own home.
It’s hard not to feel overwhelmed by the community that has been planted underneath the surface, but we are strong enough to decide where what exists in the soil of what happened and what didn’t, grows from here.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
Recent Comments