Of course, that makes complete sense. There is so very rarely a "winner" or a "loser" for matters of the heart, and it doesn't sound like this woman is something to be won, anyway. Her affect on you sounds profound, and I wish you all comfort on your walk, regardless of how it pans out. š¬ļøšā¤ļø
I remember the field, open, wild, full of things unsaid. But I have let that place grow distant. Over time, silence turned it into a desert, and I have come to prefer it that way. The threads I chose to cut were for my survival and peace alone. To see what steal I was made of, if I forged out on my own.
It may sound lonely, but to me, it is not. It is quiet. It is clear. There are no echoes and no ghosts, only space to be who I have become.
I do not deny what was. It mattered. The lives the shaped me. But not everything that once sang through your bones is meant to stay. Some threads come loose not from weakness, but because the hands that held them needed to let go.
If I do not reach back, if my name does not rise like grass in the wind, please know it is not out of bitterness. It is peace, chosen and earned. I have not forgotten. I have simply remembered how to live without it.
The woman in this story must be someone very special, and if the love is as you say, I'm sure she read this (and felt it). Hang in there & keep holding ā¤ļøāš©¹
Iām not trying to win her. That was never the point.
But I do carry her essence with me now ā like a note tucked inside my chest.
And no matter where the story goes,
Iām marked.
Softened.
Sharpened.
Forever changed by her presence in my life.
Some people pass through.
Others etch.
She was the latter.
šš
Of course, that makes complete sense. There is so very rarely a "winner" or a "loser" for matters of the heart, and it doesn't sound like this woman is something to be won, anyway. Her affect on you sounds profound, and I wish you all comfort on your walk, regardless of how it pans out. š¬ļøšā¤ļø
I remember the field, open, wild, full of things unsaid. But I have let that place grow distant. Over time, silence turned it into a desert, and I have come to prefer it that way. The threads I chose to cut were for my survival and peace alone. To see what steal I was made of, if I forged out on my own.
It may sound lonely, but to me, it is not. It is quiet. It is clear. There are no echoes and no ghosts, only space to be who I have become.
I do not deny what was. It mattered. The lives the shaped me. But not everything that once sang through your bones is meant to stay. Some threads come loose not from weakness, but because the hands that held them needed to let go.
If I do not reach back, if my name does not rise like grass in the wind, please know it is not out of bitterness. It is peace, chosen and earned. I have not forgotten. I have simply remembered how to live without it.
This is beautifully wrought, Madeline ā clear as bone and just as enduring.
Not all threads must return to be sacred.
Some are meant to be released like breath.
And I honor that.
So beautiful!
Thank you, Allegra š
This was so beautiful. I believe that anyone who was important part of your path, stays with you. Not necessary in a way that you want something or things left undone. Not with anger or yearning but with peace. With gratefulness for what it brought even if it was painful at times. It is when the time turned it into understanding and wisdom so there is no attachment. No expectations. Only love and wish that they are well as it was never meant to be anything more otherwise it would be š©µ
Yesā¦
Some threads donāt knot or fray ā they simply hum beneath the weave,
quietly altering the shape of who weāve become.
No grasping. No regret. Just the echo of fire once sharedā¦
and the quiet blessing that it lit the way, even if only for a time.
There are those who walk on ahead now ā
not as ghosts,
but as embers we no longer need to hold to feel warm. š©µ
You have put it so beautifully! As always :)
I feel the warmth of your soul. Your words trigger songs and fragrance and lives not forgotten.
Visiting with you is like a homecoming. š§”š„
That might be one of the most beautiful things anyoneās ever said to me.
If my words carry echoes of old songs and the scent of something once sacredā¦ then I trust Iām still on the path.
Grateful for the homecoming, Linda. Itās mutual.
Please let me know when conditions in your village improve.
Sending love and light. š§”š„
There's so much depth and beauty here, the pain and hope and holding. "Remembering forward." Sometimes that's the only path left š
Thank you for feeling that line ā it came from a place where past and future blur.
Sometimes we only find the path by walking it backwards and forwards at once.
Iām grateful weāre crossing signals here, even for a moment. š¹