The real can be ugly. Scary. Unsavory. The real is transparent. Often vivid; yet unassuming. It’s the soul in any given moment. If you’re fortunate enough to find it.
If you allow yourself to be…
It’s hard though. Such distractions we have these days…
But you’d have to allow it. The distraction. The over-saturated mind cannot handle everything at once, and our attempts to make it do so – no matter how adept we think we are at it – are ultimately futile.
Besides. It makes everything go by too fast. I’m just as guilty of attempting epic levels of multi-tasking on the daily – but that’s probably not in our best interests.
Kinda hard to put pause to life’s brevity though. Unless I merely have to change my perception of it. Then I suppose I could slow it down a bit.
Might want to start with a single moment though. The hug that is warm, and firm – without being cloying. Where you’re both seemingly breathing as one. And you breathe. In…the moment.
The sight of your little one’s face laughing up at yours; sheer, glowing joy shining up at you and you catch your breath; it most likely is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life.
Your other little blessing smiling shyly up at you; a mixture of pride and yearning for approval is clear as day on that beautiful little face looking to you as an example of what a woman should strive to be.
You better bring it. Shine.
And you can’t live any of that – none of it – unless there is some essence of truth in your life; in your moments. You can’t do any of it unless you maintain some semblance of real – despite the fact that what’s real is sometimes what is brutal, devastating and uncompromising.
You can’t do real unless you’re willing to BE real.
So be it. Whatever your real is.
And you’re gonna fail. Oh my goodness, you’re gonna fail so damn much. But as long as you keep trying; keep pushing; stay resilient and determined and go the fuck for it…?
You should be alright.
That’s my real.