The Wands speak:
How does one believe what they cannot conceive?
Rest your head my sweet bereaved,
I grieve for you.
For us, for the world
Not for your circumstance, or mine
But for who we believed ourselves to be.
Please shatter yourself
Let loose life's hammer
You may mourn the broken pieces
But resist the urge to sift through them on tabletops
They are desert sand.
You stand here before me unbroken
Who are you? Did you base that answer on yesterday, on last week, on the week before? Did you base it on who you were as a child?
Who are you TODAY? You are different. Moment to moment you are reborn. Your faced has changed, slightly. The weight of yesterday has become your momentum, an inspiration. You are stronger now, your pack is lighter. But the weight of it has not changed. How could you not be stronger, you've carried this weight for so long?
Reality is a funny thing, it changes when we believe. Especially when we believe in ourselves.
What are you carrying? Why do you carry it? Is it necessary even, to carry?
Beliefs can be heavy, like this pack filled with lead, or they can give us our wings.
The mind has energy. Thoughts have energy. We invest in many places with this energy, why not in ourselves? Why not transform, this instant, into something gratefully empowered, something beautiful.
When we change our perspective, we change the nature of life's incline. I know a man who hiked a thousand miles; sometimes in broken shoes and without much food, and he found bliss.
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