The past 48 hours have been a mysterious, sudden rainstorm with the majority of the people in my life contacting me with something that is beating them down. These are the moments I stand between recognizing that the world is on fire, and feeling so fucking blessed to be in a space to offer the widest, warmest shelter in which to house them. There is nothing that feels better than a person I love contacting me and needing a moment of presence and witness and me feeling, down to the chalk of my bones, that they have come to exactly the person who can offer them the strongest arms in which to hold all of the momentary broken pieces.
It is both a strange and beautiful feeling to be in a moment of entire watershed and storm and, consistently, feel internally at peace and as strong as the oldest and most deep-rooted tree in an untouched forest. This will not always be the case, but I am grateful that it has been for the longer parts of the past ten months. It is a tart and humbling realization to know that it is not the wickedness of world that brings me to my knees, it is the love and gory humanity of the people who exist within it.
be well; be loved,
k.
(title: Lyric from the 1 by T Swift)
(Image: Louise Robert Dust Magazine n°14 ph. Hugo Comte via jinxproof tumblr)
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