The only true constant is change, but we have been so conditioned to fall in love with the idea of forever in one facet or another. Our hopes of everlasting are repeatedly romanticized by our broken hearts because nobody wants to hurt and nobody wants to lose. In time, things end like they always do–relationships, seasons, lives and more. We haven’t but one life to live but many, and as part of us dies yet another is learning to take it’s first breath. Healing is messy; the way only you can dig your hands into the wound, remove the bullet, grit your teeth and apply the tourniquet. Things are always quiet in the aftermath, sitting in the silence, bowing under the weight of all the things you had to do to pass through the storm and survive the seasons; life’s cold winds leaving the tree of your life barren. It’s all so evident as the smoke clears, how you were someone or something that you’ll never be again; and the truth is, that’s alright. The pieces we lose deserve mourning, the uncertainty of who we’re becoming deserves celebrating. We were made for motion, for coming and going, arriving and leaving, birth and death. As for our direction and path, I believe it settles secondarily to an open heart, one that still beats for its truth and leads with love. It may be that should we maintain the latter, the first will unfold by its very nature, leaving us to walk in quiet, unwavering resolve throughout the course of time and change.