Technically I’m still on my bloggy break, but I’ve been feeling an urge to reach out to you all and send some invisible flying cuddles, just incase you need them.
There is such thickness and density in the air at the moment, and I wanted to remind you that wherever you sit among the noise: you’re quite perfect, just the way you are.
If your petals are orange and all the rest of the flowers in the garden are pink: wonderful.You were born to be orange. So be orange.
Hint: It’s the first thing that comes to your mind, bloggy friends. Doing thatthing will help you live your best life. I’m so sure.❤️
Ps. I’m going to take another break, I think. I’m doing a Writing for Children’s Picture book course, so I might benefit from a bit of space while I move that through my world.
Please feel free to stalk all two years worth of my blog if you miss our daily love ins. You know I love nothing more than sharing my heart with you all. Go nuts. xx And have an amazing week. ❤️
I’m devastated, I really can’t paint it any other way.
Melbourne, my home town, has gone into stage four COVID restrictions (the highest level: full lockdown, but for essential food/medical needs), which is very much necessary given the rising case numbers, but also very much a kick in the gut for those of us who are already struggling a little with life in general (hello to all the parents of sweet-faced three-year-old, terrorists.)
The struggle is a little more real for Melbournians, today. Yesterday, it felt like I’d been stuck in a mud-brick home with two small children climbing the same walls they have been climbing for months. Today all the windows have been boarded up. Considering I’m human, and not yet floating in Buddhist Monkville…I’m not living my brightest day. I’m aching at the prospect of the dark tunnel lengthening, and although I know It’s possible to change my thoughts in favour of more joyous ones, I don’t really want to do that, today.
I want to say: I know I will be okay.
I want to say: I know we will be okay, together, and a big part of me believes it— in fact the shining depth of me believes it. Still, it’s hard. And today I feel like I need to be the person that voices my pain, in order to act as a mirror for anyone else who is struggling with this. We’ll struggle together.
Empathy and compassion are my two favourite words on a good day, and these shit-storms of life are usually where those two traits are birthed and polished, within even the hardest of human hearts. So there’s one good thing. And interestingly, even with my natural inclination towards empathy, I’ve also been triggered to dive deeper into that aspect of myself in order to keep the peace at this tough time.
We all experience the world through our own focused lens, and my goodness it can be hard to understand the views and behaviours of others, sometimes, especially when they differ so radically from our own. But the last thing we need is to separate at this time.
So I’m here to say to those of you who are struggling: I see you. It’s so bloody hard to be human at times like this—really, so very hard to push through the dark curtains of life unknown, but we will. And when we do, we will be so proud of the growth and change we’ve produced as a society, I’m so sure. When looking back at the mountains we’ve each climbed on this COVID journey, we’ll very likely value our freedom and peace far more. We’ve got to see that as a win.
Lastly, I’ve been a bit tardy with my thanks to those of you who have pushed past your comfort zones in order to meet the needs of the more vulnerable in society, whether it be health care workers or those offering compassionate care to those in need. How beautiful you are.
No really. You’re beautiful. And you make me proud to human alongside you.
