sometimes… letting go is just noticing…

let it fall through your fingers again and again and again until you finally feel free

sometimes…
letting go is just noticing.
a little change in your breath.
how it comes a little easier from your lungs.
how you feel just a little different in your skin,
like it holds a little less memory of what hurt you
and a little more texture of who you are.
it’s just finally surrendering.
giving in to the loosening of your grip
on what you can no longer hold on to because
it just hurts too. much. to keep holding on.
so you decide it might be ok- it might be essential
to start letting go.
and you let go just a little bit.
and then a little bit more.
and you let it fall through your fingers
again and again and again
until you finally feel free.

– butterflies rising

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she’s beautiful chaos and wild butterflies…

she's a wildflower on fire with all that sweet soul sugar

she’s a
wildflower on fire
with all that sweet soul sugar
and an ache inside to unfold
and to grow into so much more,
all that destiny written in her eyes,
she’s wild butterflies,
and she feels her heart pulled
under the wild of the moon to face her fears
and to find her way through all of the dark
and the heavy that she’s carried for so long…
there’s fight here,
but there’s surrender here too.
and there could be so much freedom here
if she could just let herself fall into that
beautiful chaos and dig deep into
that passion in her bones…
she could uncover all the beautiful things
that those wildfires inside of her hold.

– butterflies rising

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she feels her heart pulled under the wild of the moon…

she feels her heart pulled under the wild of the moon to face all her fears

she feels her heart pulled
under the wild of the moon to face
all her fears and to find her way through
all of the dark and heavy things that
she’s carried for so long

– butterflies rising

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aching to touch stars… i hope you keep it close… no matter what. if it’s imprinted on you…

that part of you that is aching to touch stars

aching to touch stars…

i hope you keep it close…
no matter what.
if it’s imprinted on you,
like soul memory,
then i hope you keep it so. close.
and that you hold on tight
no matter what.
there will be little traces of someday
in the not-quite-yet, and i hope you feel them.
and that you can find a way to trust them.
even if weary sets in and uncertain gets loud,
i hope you can be gentle with that doubt.
and that something in you knows that it will pass.
and that it doesn’t mean give up.
i hope you never truly feel give-up.
but if you do, then i hope that some. how.
the fight in you finds its teeth
and that heart of yours finds its fire
and that you can reach deep down into that
part of you that is aching to touch stars and just
find a way to stay dreaming no. matter. what.
i hope you can hold on and hold on
and hold on… until you can feel
every last bit of your hope
holding you right back.

– butterflies rising

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aren’t even mine…

it’s one of the darkest feelings i’ve ever known... unworthy. and maybe i want to learn to start questioning it

it’s one of the darkest feelings
i’ve ever known… unworthy.

and maybe i want to learn to start
questioning it when i feel it.
like… is it always even mine?

because if it’s from someone else…
someone else’s unkindness, or judgment,
or their own unworthiness they’re projecting…
then i want to learn to say no.

i think maybe my own battles would get a little
easier to face if i wasn’t also fighting the
ones that aren’t even mine.

– butterflies rising

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this world can feel so harsh and ugly to you because you are so soft and vulnerable… just like flowers…

soft and vulnerable and beautiful, just like flowers.

this world can
feel so harsh and ugly
to you because you are
so soft and vulnerable
and beautiful… like flowers.
now imagine this world
without flowers.
so please let yourself be
something in this world that is soft
and vulnerable and beautiful,
just like flowers.

– butterflies rising

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she wanders out in the flowers, in the wild…

like she's a beautiful wildness on fire

she wanders
out in the flowers,
in the wild, where the breathing
is easy and free… because it’s where
the judgment goes quiet…
and everything beautiful is so untouched.
it’s just beautiful. and wild. and fearless.
and whether it grows into something more
or burns down and has to start again,
it just does… fearlessly.
beautifully. and wild.
so she wanders out where she
can learn to see herself that way;
to see herself in the way that she looks
at flowers… like she’s a beautiful
wildness on fire.

– butterflies rising

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