PASS THIS ON⦠TO SOMEONE WHO NEEDS TO HEAR THIS TODAY...
There is within you, yes, even now, in the ache, the noise, the quiet despair, a sacred, animating force that refuses to abandon you.
It does not clamor for attention nor posture for proof. It simply is. A current of living love, pulsing quietly beneath the rubble of weariness and confusion, breathing you even when you forget to breathe yourself.
It is the pulse beneath your pauses, the yes beneath your no, the eternal flame disguised as your fragile human form.
You are not failing. You are becoming. You are not too broken, too lost, too anything. You are simply in motion; sacred motion.
What you call sadness is soulwork. What you call stuckness is sacred gestation. The dark nights? Not signs of weakness, but rites of passage.
You are not unraveling; you are unlayering. And beneath those layers lives a being so profoundly resilient, so tenderly defiant, that even your sorrow cannot extinguish it.
This force, this presence, it has never left you. It accompanied you into every room you were afraid to enter, stood beside you during every silent scream, and whispered through your trembling hands when words would not come.
It does not scold your shadow, nor demand perfection. It simply waits, patiently, perpetually, until you remember. Until you breathe. Until you say, yes, I am still here.
So breathe, beloved. Breathe not just for air, but for truth. Drop into the sanctuary of your lungs and let yourself feel what is ancient and alive within you. Let the breath be your bridge back to being. Let it say what your mind forgot: I am still whole. I am still home.
And if you cannot believe it for yourself just yet, let these words believe for you: You are not beyond hope. You are not beyond healing. You are held. Always, in all ways. There is nothing in you that disqualifies you from love, only pieces waiting to be reclaimed by it.
The journey you are on is not a deviation. It is the divine curriculum of remembering. Of waking. Of knowing. So let the tears fall. Let the ache be felt. Let the confusion unfold. This, too, is holy ground.
I see you.
And more than that, life sees you.
It has never looked away.
~ Katie Kamara
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Artist Β© Della Camilleri