Grateful

“Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes.”

~ Oscar Wilde

Sometimes the rough points in life seem endless. There is no light at the end of the tunnel and bad things are just going to continue to occur without pause. That is life and it goes on, so they say. 

2022 has been one big pile of unimaginable tragedy, pain, illness, and trauma, not just for my husband and I, but for folks within our tight knit little “framily”. My heart has been at a complete loss for why all of these incidents and heartaches are taking place at the same time. Is it just our age? Have we reached a strange place where this is just, how things are for a bit? If so, I cannot say I am enjoying it in the slightest. Nope. 

“Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die”

~ Buddha

So here we are in February after a lot of pain and mourning, hard decisions and healing, feeling surprisingly ready for whatever the rest of 2022 is here to bring. Priorities, plans, and finances redirected to finally begin pursuing what we have been putting on the back burner for our own growth. Feeling immensely grateful for the grace, empathy, and support we have received in our little circle during the heavy when it could have just been an “I told you so!”. Sometimes it is the littlest things that have reminded both of us we are worthy of better.

I could not feel more thankful for this moment of feeling a strange, unimaginable sense of peace. 

For those feeling less than worthy, I implore you to start your new year now. Redefine and rearrange what amplifies in you “I AM WORTHY!”. Find yourself a few folks with integrity who will check you when you need it and lift you when you cannot lift yourself. Fill up those timelines and follows with focus on the positive, the uplifting, and the safe.

The power of taking control over your own space is one you will never want to give back. 

X’s O’s and Skittles

dear brother

 dear brother, don’t forget
 to turn out the 
lights
 (dear brother, don’t forget
 to let go)
  
 the leaves will still choose
 to change their
colors
 and the earth beneath you will
 still turn
 all the same
  
 what is gone
 is over,
 the dead cannot
speak
 any more than they can hear;
 your cries remain
foreign 
 to closed ears
  
 (brother, to stay inside the still
 is a slow way
 to die)
  
 tragedy is every crack 
 in your road;
 every fistful of sand in your 
eyes
  
 we can make up
 our minds 
 to wash them clean
 or let each grain
 bore holes
 ‘til we go
blind
  
 so let, slow
 the veil that
 covers your soul
 slip back down
 from your face
 to the floor;
 mourn yesterday when 
it is
 (and only when
 it is)
 and close that
door
  
 and, brother,
 don’t forget to
 turn out
the lights


~ A. L. Stippich

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