It’s the beats of our hearts that we feel and at times the tempos bloom with the sharp compositions of our rides while in other moments the rhythms reflect the soft notes that can also be found along the way. When the thorny sentiments climb, blocking the others from our view, they write in the colors that best represent what needs to be heard by us. Our minds will try to locate the words that make sense of those challenging harmonies, but they can’t really describe what our hearts carry nor the impression that those things leave upon us. By deconstructing our feelings with the terms that tend to underrate their importance to us, those personal reactions are encouraged to continue to hold onto our hearts and to get louder. As our sadness and doubt rise in that position, the phrases that emphasize that we are indeed impossible flow easily into our thoughts which in turn, translates into our feeling unsafe within ourselves. Fear has a way of convincing us that falling occurs because we lack the necessary tools to go forward but collapsing happens as a result of our inability to sit with our antagonizing emotions as they fluctuate with the pulse of their memories. In other words, we hold a thing called hope and we usually have some kind of plan, but our belief in ourselves is continually under attack by the perfectly imperfect feelings, another dragon of sorts, that we think define us rather than the missteps that we actually make. Those complex and colorful beats will remain in their fire-breathing state until we reshape them into either the supporting characters that light our way or the personas that merely fade into the background with the loss of their truth. Our epic tales contain every mark upon our hearts and minds, all the words that we have said and heard, each color that speaks for the palette of our emotions, every single note that has played when terms have failed us as well as any mystical beasts that we have slayed or are still battling. Whatever is on the next page or around the bend or in a bush with a thousand prickles or in a blunder along the journey, will be another beat in our hearts that expresses how we feel about that particular moment, and it can only become a weed when we offer that entry the magical power to decide who we are.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
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