i love how humans have this beautiful habit of assigning meaning to ordinary things. lucky pennies. wishing on stars. birthday candles. somehow that feels less like superstition and more like hope
you’ll get rejected and dumped and fired and you’ll fail at things you were sure about, that’s just the cost of being alive. the question isn’t whether it’ll happen but how quickly you can get yourself back to swinging at the next opportunity. every day you spend hostage to what already happened is a day you’re not creating what’s next. reset fast.
the pigeon doesn’t understand your disdain for it; it coos for you anyway. the tree does not know you own an axe for it; its leaves sway in the sun anyway. the starving cat eats the poison you put out. it doesn’t know how not to trust. the earth forgives you, in spite of yourself
actually your community IS coming to save you, people are going to show up for you, love is going to find you, strangers are going to be like angels, the world conspires for your highest good
guess what? you can be a deeply serious person with a silly little heart. you can care about the world, grieve what’s broken, and still be delighted by clouds, snacks, and fuzzy socks.