The Way Back To Yourself

Sometimes.

The soul grows tired.

Of living too far away from the body.

Too many days moving quickly.

Too many seasons spent carrying things silently.

Until even your own reflection begins to feel distant somehow.

The Earth keeps trying to remind us.

Through rain against windows.

Through wind moving softly through tall grass.

Through golden fields bending gently beneath the sky.

Through the sound of summer wind.

Moving like waves.

There is something about standing still inside nature.

It begins loosening what we have held too tightly.

As though the body remembers it belongs to something older than exhaustion.

Sometimes healing.

Arrives like rain touching dry earth.

Sometimes.

It feels like warmth returning to cold hands.

Sometimes.

It is simply the breath deepening without force.

The shoulders softening.

The heart becoming quieter inside itself.

Perhaps the way back to yourself.

Is not a destination.

Perhaps it is a remembering.

A slow unfolding.

But returning to the parts of yourself that still know how to feel sunlight,

How to rest.

How to stand beneath an open sky without needing become anything else.

And maybe that is enough.

Soften.

Begin again.

From here.