“how” is unknown, and the being is not heart-strong, the unknown is painful—the mind knows only lack. the shut down begins. why want only to be disappointed? why imagine only to come back to a reality of lack?
dear one, that path can be so well-worn and deep that even the seasons no longer touch your reality. there is no colorful spring or fall. there is no growth or rest. only walls of dirt, ever deeper, ever more real, becoming the only known reality. who could convince that being there is more?
time’s gift is that it offers you potential in every moment.
take the rope of hope that the heart offers, climb 