Dear Love, what will you have me know about who I am?

You were literally brought up in the school of ‘I think, therefore I am’. It makes sense that you consider that way of thinking as a sort of norm, a sort of safe pillar you can count on. It’s much harder for you to integrate: ‘I don’t know, therefore I am’. To worship chaos, lack of destination and enjoying the process. It’s much harder for you to embody: ‘I feel, therefore I am’. But you are learning. You have always valued intellect, intelligence and knowing where you’re headed.

This morning you fell off your bed in the most ridiculous way. If you didn’t want to cry, you would be laughing.

You are in pain, love.

Part of it is physical, part of it is mental.

Part of it belongs to now and part of it belongs to tomorrow.

You are scared, love.

What have you done? What could have happened? What if you broke that curvy spine for good?

You somehow struggle with the impermanence of pain. You fear almost that if you allowed yourself to feel the pain, you will be in this pain forever.

What can this pain teach you about yourself, about who you want to be, about who you could be if you lived fully?

Let the tears flow, love, you are human after all.

You cried so much that all that was left was you.

You feel strangely serene about it.

Pain as a teacher. Pain reminding you you can make mistakes and hurt.

Pain reminding you who you are, human.

Art as your health care.

Love, Love.

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