On days such as these, it can be amiss to believe that there ever was a bad day on earth or a voice being ignored when calling out a name. It is days such as these when the paint on the canvas is filled with such light that you cannot even recall what it meant to be moody or unfair. I know there are reasons that rise at times like a kettle being hot and on for us to belong to some sort of dimness — as if walking is too long and the days grow too weary with news, plans and chest aches. The last few months have been equal parts playroom, equal parts arithmetic, which is not to say life has ever been anything else, just lately I have noticed these sort of things more than I usually do.
One thing I have found in the last few months — because I have been busy doing new things, trading my usual places for somewhere less familiar, less understood, and because these undertakings have been driven by both fear and desire, I find in myself something I didn't know so well before and that is the ability to know what it is my heart calls for and how I am supposed to give it food, much like hay to the horse. The heart can be stubborn and the heart can change in a moment, but one thing is always true, when you pay mind to what hurts it, what soothes it, what confuses it, you might find yourself closer to a way of mending, of sewing yourself a life that bodes well for you, too.
It is tasking to remember that we are worthy, more everyday to think that we are not. In a lifetime, we live too many days with dagger pressed against us instead of a hand and to my younger self, I wish I knew what I know now sooner. It is fine just as birds fly, ducks skim the creek bed and the deer stands still upon noticing you, to know what you want and to ask for it. On days such as these, when sunlight warms the staircase as if it were a cradle and that kettle ready dimness you sometimes run to is away from you, it is easy to forget that there ever was a moment when I said
"I can't."
humbled <3
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