The mind that reaches too far I’ve invented and run from shadows I’ve imagined,
The mind that reaches too far robs the present moment of its softness, as if this hour were not worthy of my full presence unless it promises something greater,
The mind that reaches too far but why do I insist on living emotionally in days that haven’t happened yet?
And why do I abandon the only place where life is actually unfolding?…
lives in every hope I cling to too tightly,
The hidden tension inside desire because hope carries the same trembling as fear—both anchored on its uncertainty,
The hidden tension inside desire turns wanting into worry, the quiet kind that tightens the chest even when life is gentle and even when nothing is wrong,
The hidden tension inside desire but what am I truly afraid of losing—the dream itself, or the illusion of control that came with it?
The hidden tension inside desire, and what if wanting something too much is what makes me fear losing it in the first place?
The illusion of safety in predictions when all it really does is multiply anxiety over things I cannot influence at all,
The illusion of safety in predictions convinces me that tomorrow must be shaped by my expectations,
The illusion of safety in predictions is when reality often arrives in quieter, kinder, or more complex ways than I imagined,
The illusion of safety in predictions but how much energy have I wasted watching mental movies instead of living actual moments?
And how many joys have I missed because I was too busy anticipating disappointments?…
The soft return to the present moment, a gentle reminder that nothing terrfying is happening right now—not in this exact second,
The soft return to the present moment reminds me that hope and fear are both distractions—
one sweet, one bitter,
The soft return to the present moment where in that moment both pulling me away from the life I already have,
The soft return to the present moment lets me live without a script, and without forcing tomorrow to look like my longing or my dread…
The quiet acceptance of one’s fate, invites me to open my hands,
to trust that what comes is meant to come,
The quiet acceptance of one’s fate, and what leaves was never meant to stay forever,
The quiet acceptance of one’s fate, a flow I don’t have to predict, a rhythm I don’t have to control,
The quiet acceptance of one’s fate, a story I can walk through without the weight of wanting everything differently…
• Wanting fuels worry
• Tomorrow is too heavy for today
• Fear and hope both steal the now
• Amor fati frees the heart
• Stay in the breath you are living
