It has been said that practicing will help us to perfect whatever we are trying to do, making it a permanent part of ourselves.
What if, though, that action just becomes another color that is fastened to our stories without our actually feeling connected to it or better because of it?
In other words, there are many things that have been repeated over the years that have not necessarily been beneficial to us but are now attached to the narratives that we breathe in.
It’s a little like using the common hue of red to reflect love when really we are linked in our hearts to that pigment expressing the way we know the fear and the anger that has also been a part of our journeys.
We can see that familiar association all around us but our disconnect is similar to the belief of the word beauty in which what it describes for one must be what it is for all when in reality what that term embodies is meant to be discovered through each of us individually.
The bigger picture is in having a goal and the feedback that we get from that can affirm that we are heading in the right direction but it can’t fix what’s already at home in our backstories that leaves us feeling stuck as well as impossible.
We need to break down our movement into smaller and more meaningful steps that bridge our inside to what we are doing on the outside so that we may navigate the wave of emotions that threaten to block our wishes from our sight as easily as the gloom can surround and choke out the light.
Turning our faces towards the sun can help support our hopes but taking the time to perceive of the mix of colors and words that are rooted in how we have lived, loved and lost enables us to change our view and then rewrite what has already been into what rebuilds us now.
In the tales of ordinary, sometime warriors, things get colorful through the highs and the lows of our lives and part of the neutral ground between those two polarizing points is in allowing ourselves to continue rehearsing what tears mean to us when we are sad as well as when we are laughing until our stomachs hurt.
After all, it is still us on the inside where the rain is not a stranger nor are dragons but how we know ourselves determines whether we persistently mistake our own flowers for weeds or actually connect to feeling better during the moments when the chaos threatens to keep our little bit of happiness shrouded in darkness.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
Recent Comments