We all have our “stuff,” you know. Each and every single one of us.
We’ve got worries that steal our sleep, moments we wish we could do over or better or differently.
We’ve got bad conversations that play on a loop in our heads, each time hoping for a different outcome.
We’ve got bruises and scars and all kinds of wounds, some that have healed nicely and some hardened by scar tissue and some still gaping and raw.
We’ve got lessons still to learn from the mistakes we continue to make.
Knowing that, could we please try being a little nicer to each other?
Could we stop shoveling bullshit at one another and calling it “life?”
Can’t we, instead, be lovers and healers and soothers and comforters?
Can we hold each other’s hand as honest supporters and meaningful guides?
Can we pick people up instead of pushing them down, or away?
In the times that I’ve needed care and feeding for my heart and soul, I’ve been lucky enough to have friends who didn’t hesitate to offer it. Strangers, too. (Which, sometimes, is the sweetest kind of compassion there is.)
Now it’s my turn to give some of it back. Join me?
Because, as Mark Twain said, “Kindness is the language which the deaf and can hear and the blind can see.”