Life offers itself to us in whispers and storms, in ripe fruit and empty branches. The journey inward — where truth, love, and the essence of who we are resides — often begins only when we stop reaching for what isn’t ready and allow ourselves to simply be.
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It doesn’t matter whom I want to help, heal, or love if I can’t first embody and extend those things to myself. This divine, earthbound journey carries us through an orchard of endless abundance, yet we often grasp at unripe fruit — whether out of vanity or innocence — and then wonder why bitterness lingers.
Everything unfolds in its time and place.
The pain, the resistance, the tension, the enmity — these are our teachers, though they rarely announce themselves as such. And love? Love is the ever-present force, the gentle monster that never leaves your side. It is you, in entirety, holding infinite space, indifferent to inessentials, trivialities, and our concept of time.
It urges you, again and again, to listen more intently, to feel with greater depth. It calls for daring, willingness, wonder, and the critical realization that the tightrope you believe you’re walking is an illusion, held aloft by mere perception.
How often do we sever our extraordinary abilities, aspirations, heart murmurings, and lifelong passions because we’ve been taught not so much to question, but to distrust? Cynicism has its moments, but release it before it poisons you.
Beyond enmity lies pure potential. Perhaps what we need most is a simple mantra: Be easier on yourself.
Temet nosce