we find our soulmates in the places we go to find our souls…

i think we find our soulmates in the places we go to find our souls

where we are drawn and pulled. and when we are shifted and stirred. in what makes us feel. and feel alive. or feel understood, like outstretched hands and lifelines, like home. in our self-searching, where we feel soul memory. or in the inspiration touches and in what feels like free and brings us wide-lung breathing. and in our fire-catching and lightning-chasing, they meet us there with sparks. where we light-find and heart-reach or lose breath and dream wild… i think we find our soulmates in the places we go to find our souls.

– butterflies rising

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because there are dreams over there…

and i closed my eyes in the middle of all the wild noise and just stayed still - butterflies rising poem

and i closed my eyes
in the middle of all the wild noise
and just stayed still… and i felt myself
being pulled that way.
and so i asked, “why that way?”
and i heard, “because there are dreams over there.”

and that feels like as good a reason as any
to ever do anything…
and so i’m going to go that way.

– 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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to see herself in the way that she looks at flowers…

like she's a beautiful wildness on fire - butterflies rising

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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