Here’s Some Weeds #391

There's so much to say in the constant maintenance of the things our thoughts show us.

In the repetition of the palettes that minds comfortably look for despite the resistance that hearts have for those beliefs.

In the chasing of dreams, while living in patterns that remain attached to the speech that stacks debris against gardens.

And in the truth that no matter how much or little there has been, happiness isn't memorable in survival mode. 

So, here we are, fighting to live within hand-painted art that holds wreckage.

Searching for the grass that is greener somewhere over there and the versions that will be better than the current nowhere.

Hoping for the kind of clarity that even the darkness can't silence.

Desiring a collection that needs no words to express its beauty.

And longing for a bond written in permanent marker that added colors of feelings can't blur.  

But what is love within an edition that it doesn't even know, if its actions seemingly haven't found a foothold in who it already does?

How will we get what we hope for when safety isn't sitting in the garden with us?

And how can we be sure we will recognize what we feel we haven't known? 

It's hard for the light to penetrate the weather when love isn't being socialized within the spaces of ourselves.

When the barrier protecting our insecurities gives the poor prognosis that happiness can't validate unhappiness.

And the sky view of bad days automatically locks up the ringing of feelings with its pattern recognition.

Because change isn't just about different moments and feelings but rather the detaching from the familiarity of the thoughts we seek and their trajectory that we use. 

So, by introducing something small and meaningful, like the slower pitch of love, the momentum of the hurt processes and then lessens over time.

And even though we may not always know what that feels like on the inside, for whatever reason, we get to try on energies until the spaces in our homes get comfortable with grief being in the same room as love.

So, here's some weeds to break those chains because confidence isn't built from what blooms or a life of sunshine but by weathering storms in the safety of deserving to love ourselves anyways.

Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell