For we are forged in stars.

I really am inspired by the wonders of the world, by the big things, and the small. But what really strikes wonder into my deepest soul is the knowledge that it took billions of stars together, working billions of years to forge the very material that makes me what I am. That makes you what you are. We are one result of a pan-universal evolution of mass and energy. Think on that.

So I went and did this thing, with stuff.

And it means the world to me.

It’s totally okay to say you’re not.

… Right?

Sometimes recovering from a loss, or grief, a burden or anything that stamps emotional hell on you is a life-consuming affair. We may never get over the things that are done to us, that happen to us, or that affect us so profoundly. It’s not about ‘bucking up’, and it’s not about dealing with it. It’s about experiencing it, learning from it, and trying to overcome it in your own way.

If someone tells you to ‘get over it’, just tell’em where they can shove it. They don’t know what you’ve gone through, nobody can. No two things are ever the same. You are the one who can make those choices, learn those lessons, and grow into the form those changes help mould for you. You bear the fruits of your own life, and you are the one who can sow those little seeds; the hopes and fears of others.

Just because you can explain it, doesn’t mean it’s not a miracle. Look at everything around you. See the wonder, the majesty, the beauty. It’s a true-blue mother-fucking miracle.

A person does not overcome one thing or another. They learn from it. A thing that is a part of you will always be, and when love in lust becomes love in friends you will understand. An action, an epiphany, a coincidence.

These are things that move us, scare us, break us, motivate us.

These are the things we use as tools to shape ourselves and the world around us.

Love never goes away, but the definition of it will change. The same palette bears the paint stains of anger, lust, hope… and every other combination in the spectrum of what makes us what and who we are. It is a beautiful, ever morphing thing. It moves and changes like the tides.

It’s the burning flame I live for, and the thing I love to love.

Butterfly eggs. On an inconspicuous leaf on an inconspicuous tree - in my front yard. Another gorgeous display of nature going unnoticed by the rest of the world. So subtle these are, yet so obvious once you train your eye to them. Incredible.

I live in a world besieged on all sides by fundamental beauty. Locked in a battle so intense and focussed, we miss almost all of it. People favour the bright, the stunning, the broad and scoping. So much, that we miss that little thing on the footpath. We miss the budding of the first leaves, that neglected stalk in the corner. Every fibre, every cell, every fickle strand of the most inconsequential DNA is a stunning display of exuberance: The exuberance of life.

Challenge yourself to see beyond the cobwebs and into the gossamer strands, from the leaf to the power processing facility. From every facet of every thing there is something amazing, wonderful, and delightful.

The world is a deliciously complicated place.

Fear. Fear of being alone. Fear of being outcast —forgotten. It’s that dark fluttering of something fractal inside your gut. It’s an instinct, a thing shared in all living things.

We are not designed to be alone. And yet we often choose to be.

That nature of humans to show terror in the face of loneliness is vast, a greedy maw of self derision and loss of self esteem. But we can control it. We feel it when we shouldn’t, and it causes us unhappiness. Unhappiness within the bubble of our lives that we can circumvent, if we only know how. This thing has many forms, and shows itself in many faces. It is what it is, regardless.

But when you look at yourself, know this: We are never alone. It might not be about what you want, it might not be about who finds you attractive. It’s about people who care, and no matter what you think, we are here. For you; for each other. Our lives are towers in the mists of the psychological world we inhabit, towers that bend and twist with the wind, that break and collapse under great pressure. But even in the deepest mist, at the darkest base of the most broken, burned out towers, is the spark of creation. That noble being that is you, and everything about you.

You can rebuild, you simply have to know how.

And want to.

It’s amazing what you can love and miss, when you don’t see it. Especially when it happens twice in a 24 hour period, 365 days of the year. That’s 730 opportunities in a year. Suddenly you feel like you sleep in too much.

… Now imagine everything else you love and miss. How many opportunities do you really have to really live?