It’s hard to release the artful ways that our homes express themselves.
To change the dancing style of pushing through and trying to recover later.
To discover how words have settled in like we are some destination for them to get to.
How contagious heart burn is from the growth beneath labels.
How disproportionately we can be in the deep end simply because there are hard things in gardens as well as the gardeners.
To learn that beauty has the same freedom to speak even though the discourse of whispers would like us to believe that it doesn’t.
And that participating in the symphony of sorrow never meant hating-on the artist whose breath keeps time with those tunes.
Because beneath the ink, we are continually sucked into unsettling things.
Into clinging to the idea that achievements will prevent further decay.
Into pushing for grief’s stay to end after a day.
Into the consideration that being is a better occupant than becoming is.
But safety doesn’t develop in the exchange of lows for highs.
In letting go of support for a version still trying to wrap it’s head around the pain of a situation.
In resisting a home’s revolution that an imbalance of power will always bring.
Because life isn’t some stripped back version with uninterrupted lines of happiness and wisdom.
Glazed over with the perfect colors.
Written with words whose edges haven’t been frayed from wear.
Painted off of a six second moment.
Nor stirred exactly the same on different days.
But it is the quiet strength of a heart loving the vulnerability of its shaky voice.
It is the mark of sorrow penciled in next to happy under the umbrella of enough.
It is everything communicating as it does while the direction of the story transforms.
It is fear going where it goes to expose the truth that bravery isn’t an invisible friend.
It is the place that both flowers and debris visit because gardens and gardeners are always becoming…something.
Happiness makes loving us easier, but when artwork is suffering from its absence, turning weeds over changes the side that we find ourselves on.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
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