Some mornings, the world is so breathtakingly beautiful you can't help but ache. Some mornings, the world is so breathtakingly painful that you can't help but ache. Some days those aches collide, right in the centre of your chest, and you live suspended in the wild mix of it all. Gratitude and awe and hard edged grief. Softness and wonder and devastation. It is hard to hold all we are given in this life. It is hard to become a container so vast. And sometimes we cannot. Sometimes it is too much to hold. Too much to be contained. And it washes out and over, like so many rivers rushing hard for the ocean. Searching and searching and searching for the place they belong. For home. For freedom. For peace.
