Writing
is not just about therapy,
but it is the love
that makes something impossible
become possible.
You will grow
among them in hope
and you will decide
to appreciate yourself
in the end.

I woke to the new year with a sense of peace. Waving white flags to the battlefields of months left behind. Finding paths back to myself and turning inward to heal and nurture. Drowning my heart in words of appreciation until everything started feeling right. The warmth of the sun has returned to my soul. I have stopped feeling guilty for putting myself first; for choosing my own happiness.  I don’t love the world less, I’m just finding more love for myself. As soon as I returned to calmer waters, the game changed. Not because things are now perfect, far from it. But I find myself smiling, more and more, every day, for the smallest perfect moments. Isn’t that what it’s all about, being present in your own life.

From malleable clay,
with his own hands
the potter made a bowl,

Only one day the bowl broke.

What would you do
if you were the potter?

Would you consider repairing it?

Would you throw it away?

Would you repair it,
but also elevate it to a
whole new level of appreciation?