My heart is a delicate thing.

My mom’s door was always open, like her heart. Now that she’s not here, it’s difficult being here. And yet, I’m alive.

This and that are true.

On the one hand it’s like I’m beginning to see life through new eyes yet, within there is sadness for the way it used to be, and how it is now without you. My heart is a delicate thing and so is life. The dichotomies that exist rise up to the surface and I am torn between exuberance for life and the depths of despair in grief.

The middle way. The middle path is where I land. Into the space between the silence and the breath of consciousness.

There’s soo much agony, heartbreak and pain right now that the world is in exhausted overwhelm.

Rest, sweet one. Relax your weary head and know that nothing here is permanent, only change. Believe in a new light of understanding glowing brightly between the darkness.

There will be light as we let in the light.

Feel the solar sun warm you and remember, you are alive in this moment.

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