We are not broken. We are not wrong, and if we are frightened, then perhaps we're at yet another crossroads. The right crossroads. I can't tell you which direction to take--true north is individual. If following your heart is difficult (believe me--I understand), then follow your curiosity. It cannot and will not steer you wrong. It… Continue reading Part of the design.
It's a massive question, isn't it--for whom are we living? I have a feeling most of us either couldn't answer or, if we could, "for ourselves" would not be the first answer. But if *not* for ourselves, then how on earth can we summon the energy again and again, day after day? Because, Petals, living by… Continue reading These hours.
Life shapes us--there's no revelation in that. But our default mode is to look critically at that shape, tallying up our mistakes, misdirections, regrets, weaknesses. But can you not see how the passing of time has sculpted us? Can you not see how that sculpting has revealed us to ourselves, and can we not, by… Continue reading As we wear.
Sometimes, when it's all too overwhelming, it's more helpful to think of ourselves as elements of the whole. Each element is exquisite--the way it works with the next, the way this seamless machine keeps going, whether we focus or not, whether we strive or rest. Today, maybe it's the subtle pulse of blood beneath the skin.… Continue reading Radiate grace.
That we're our harshest critics is not news. But why is it, knowing that, that we continue to listen? This is the eternal mystery. The fierce hippie-rebel in me is here to play the tattooed angel on your shoulder, reminding you gently, with compassion and with love, kindly to shut up. For today, when that… Continue reading The Most Difficult Border
We just get too close. And when we get too close, our vision fails us--on every level. I think it's because we've become too accustomed to squinting, to bending closer, leaning toward, trying harder. Instead, we need space to breathe, space to move. And space can be scary--all that emptiness. All that possibility? All that perspective? … Continue reading Unrecognizable to Ourselves.
Amy Holt 