Doubt isn’t simply a word with the ability to deflate hopes but one that operates by sitting us down to a parade of moments while projecting past feels into the wishes that we are trying to connect to.
Its pointy fingers are compromised of the things that didn’t work out and the fear of the unknown that we have come to believe in more than we do in ourselves.
As if it’s bonded to us and destined to slowly deplete the enthusiasm before it has even had the chance to soften tomorrow’s pages, the spaces where different is still supposed to be available to us.
But what if we were to use that word against itself, to doubt what that embellishing means even though it appears to know what it is doing in presenting items from both our minds and hearts?
Not to excuse those recited moments but to understand that picking up what we thought we saw in having to survive was never synonymous with the absence of strength until we held ourselves in limbo in that place?
That idea might not feel right within the context of dragon voices that seemingly hate on us, but the truth is that it doesn’t matter whether we win or lose, only how generosity impacts our gardens that are often caught between debris and weather.
And to be generous with our unsteady selves means to open up the burden of the sinking words that we swear are our story to question if processions of moments really shouldn’t be displayed in the neglected sections of our flashes of strength.
We are better than the set status of deflated hope and happiness that requires us to do so
if our decorating includes doubt, we owe it to ourselves to recycle that term to pick for our storms to also be what waters our flowers.
Have the best day possible for you. Love Always, Heavell
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