A letter of hope.

Life is a short-lived privilege.
We all have a story, our skin dressed in our history, our minds armoured with memories.


On my brother’s arm an old faded book cover and all you need to do is ask him, how did you get that scar? For the dust to be blown away, and him to open and his story to be heard.
Our skin reveals a lot of what happened in our lives, how often after a holiday do you see a friends skin has darkened and then you just know she or he spent some time in the sun most likely by the beach. Remember shaking hands and the feel of skin and how you could notice quite a bit about a person by their skin, rough, hard, soft, dirty, and clean.
As if our bodies are always whispering a story.
Our minds hold everything trying to protect us with memory remember what happened when you walked barefoot in that field how much the thrones hurt you? Shoes my friend put on shoes! Thank you memory now, my souls are protected. Our mussels have memory reacting on instinct to protect you the best in a split second you could not think but the memory you have acquired jumped into action and did the work, protected by memory.
I am thinking of the tree I see every day where I stay, I wonder what lives inside what is underneath the bark. I wonder the same about us we see the fruit and the leaves but we miss the story of what lives inside. I know that I do not know.
I do not know what lives inside the tree even less of how it feels to be alive with so much life inside, I know how my brother broke his arm, I was inside the house while he was skateboarding outside, he built a ramp but the ramp did not stand the test of time and that is what broke first and then his arm I remember him holding his arm I remember the hospital but I do not know what he felt I cannot feel the bend and snap, I cannot feel the moment he felt a plan go wrong.
I do not know your story, all I know is if you are reading this you are alive, and that makes me happy.

How many things have been written about life, and what it is, how many have tried to wrap it up and box it, slap a fragile sticker on it and ship it to everyone.
Life at the very least is a thing personally lived. Walking outside and taking some photos I started to notice life, and how much of it is happening, things we miss, sometimes forget, the clouds they are doing their thing there up in the sky, the tree and its insides and the grass I sat on to take the picture, there is so much life around us, asking to be lived.
It was a great feeling looking through the viewfinder of the camera and finding a new view on life a living life filled with opportunity and hope.
I have been struggling a bit with some things this past while, believing in what I am doing and worth, I have been struggling with some physical things as well that just made me even more fatigued and frustrated my mind felt as if it was fighting the whole time, but today, despite some struggles I became aware of how beautiful life is and how everything assists us to be alive, the air is perfect, gravity just happened to work the best for us to be able to walk and the fact that there are days and nights, breaks my brain, that at night there is still light more brain breaking, it’s as if everything is singing a song for us to be alive.


Again I know that I don’t know your scars, many of us carry our wounds inside there is no faded book cover for someone to ask how did you get that scar, we often hide our bleeding hearts with a smile and a “good and you?”
But as I said this is a letter of hope.
Dear today:
Thank you for showing up I know you did not have to. I carry some of yesterday’s scars and tomorrows worries, but I see you today here alive with me asking the air to fill my lungs even though they struggle, asking gravity to keep me grounded but allow me to break its rules at times.
Today, I hope to see you clear today.
With all the moments you give as present, today I know that you are a mystery unavailing before my eyes, toady I will breathe and look to see, breathe and be, breathe.
Today, this is a love letter you are beautiful and you rose for me, so I rise for you.
I am a book with many todays, but none as special as you today, I live with you at this moment, the sweet kiss of your life send flutters to my stomach reminding me that, there is life inside.
Today my darling today, today is just me and you.

Our skin dressed in our history, our minds armoured with memory our heart lives alive.
Thank you for reading Peace and Love.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s