looking philosophical
at all our stunning work
My life is a collection of evidence. The facts have settled here and breathed a while. The facts are becoming a stain, having morphed a little,
having arranged themselves into a graph of results. They are old news, anyway, evidence of all I have considered and believed,
all I held in my limbs,
all I told myself I was worth,
the things I accepted,
the words I used to name them.
Those times that I decided against myself.
Your life is a collection of evidence.
The facts have settled here and breathed a while.
The facts are becoming hard to tell apart
having clung together,
having deepened in colour,
having threatened a prognosis. They are old news, anyway,
evidence of what you trusted and could not trust,
what you believed you were worth,
what lingered/haunted/hung around.
That was then. This is now.
Do not make all your decisions
based on where you are sitting.
It is a residual circumstance;
the truth for as long as you accept it.
It is yesterday’s story. You can dream it extinct.
Act now, with the day’s tools.
What is the use of a past identity?
Now is the time to change the clock.
Unfasten the lock on your rib.
Fashion new muscle.
Bone-grow.
Stray beyond the constraints of the mind trap.
Now is the time to gather new terms.
That was then, friend; this is now.
Yesterday has already moved from where we left it.
Tomorrow is forming accordingly.
If you’re going to be here,
be here.
This feels like an invitation I didn’t know I was waiting for.
The reminder that the ‘evidence’ of who I’ve been doesn’t have to remain the verdict, that lands deeply.
I love the image of fashioning new muscle. I’ve been thinking about how we’re all walking around in stories that need updating, and you’ve given language to that gently, without shame.
Thank you for this. I’m going to sit with it a while.
received through the tissues and ligaments of a new day. Thank you