So Many Layers #373

For flowers, the path from seeds to sprouts to blooms to seeds and then debris, is the nature of their stories that never hold the promise of becoming.

They push through the resistance of the soil and ever-changing weather as well as the possibility of being defeated by what couldn’t be considered wherever they are.

They even welcome the dark to grow their roots as much as they embrace the light in the order of their existence.  

And when comparing that understanding to the rules of wishes in our building more, the process is similar except we are far more fragile within the conditions of our own minds and hearts than a single seed is in the harshest of environments in its cycle.

Even tomorrow’s games feel rigged by captured things telling us what to think and feel while we hope that a likeable feeling about ourselves will somehow come along to change tears of pain into those that fall from laughter.  

And yet here we are, having learned to survive, making us so capable of bringing through a perspective beyond what has, so far, been the normal in our gardens.

And although those shadows and darkness seem contrary to growth, we did not get to this spot on our journeys to not now choose loving and being kind to ourselves.

Because building upon the wisdom of yesterday’s experiences, even when the bottom layer is regret, moves us a step closer to the place where we find shelter in our weather.

And since we have already tried reciprocating the debris of defeating moments, we might as well renegotiate who we are in a manner that bolsters our homes with gains that remain. 

So, in the frames that hurt, there is at least one detail that will let us into joy for as long as we need to be.

Sometimes that bloom is simply that we got up, or sadness was distracted by fun, or that we believe just a little more in dreams than limitations but whatever it is, it is enough to ever so slightly shift what weighs us down.

But it’s a decision that we have to make as many times as we can to ease the conditions in our homes and to break the cycle of accumulated moments.

Sometimes hope doesn’t look like hope because its processes trigger everything from inspiration to perceived defeat and grief, however the better story isn’t the dream but rather meeting ourselves along the way.

There are so many layers to works of art and the price that we have paid hasn’t just been in captured things but in reading them in black and white and it’s time to find us in the other colors.

Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always Heavell