Loneliness is our grief breaking through from the marks of our moments where the lights of being heard and loved existed as hopes and dreams but not as our actual experiences of being at home within our own hearts.
Feeling homesick for those comforting embraces that we imagine prevail somewhere that we just haven’t found yet, creates separation within us but it’s not the kind that encourages the space that allows us to breathe within the content of our own authenticity.
That disconnect is like shifting our weight of the world from one hand to another and then back again as we walk the lines that we think we should or distract ourselves from what we carry by seeking shelter in the vibes and words of others.
Initially, there is a sense of relief from our burdens in those settings but eventually, any time it rains that pain propagates as the reminders that we are longing for our place of safety to rest our hurting hearts and tired minds.
We aren’t content with allowing the relationship that we have with ourselves but we are comfortable with thinking that we are disqualified from having the choice to get creative with our obstacles, especially those fire-breathing dragons, that feel so inseparable from us no matter how hard we try to let them go.
What is able to bleed through follows us because we are the only ones who can turn the light on in the darkness of their existence although our intent has been to surround them with the sound of silence so that they will go away without our having to blend their needs in with our desires for easy trails, sunny days and of course the flowers that we think prove we are all right.
What if the purpose of our mangled words, muddy colors and out-of-tune songs is not to make us feel like failures but are the very emotional cues that beauty and being home within ourselves are not truly defined by the blooms that eventually have to decay anyways but by us as the main characters in the narratives where we just happen to grieve and fall down more than we want to?
If you must let go of something, then let it be your idea of what the isolation, homesickness and hurt says about you as well as the belief that you have to be more than what is already within your reach from your encounters for you to be possible.
After all, flowers will always be within our view but the magical ones require us to dance a little more with expanding the space where our feels constrain us even when it seems easier to look elsewhere or to let someone else tell us how to paint our stories.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
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