Don’t posture yourself into a stance
Trying to look cool or collected
You won’t stand a chance
It’s time to let go of these games now
These old games
They’re not yours
They never were
It’s not about proving them wrong
Or letting them know that you know what they’re doing
None of that matters now
This isn’t a game anymore
Nor a dance or a punching ground
That shit is over
On it’s way out
This is the taking out of the roots
The family root
The family trance
It might feel a little shaky
Or more than a little
You might feel wrestled with
Dug up
Laying there on the mulch
Roots exposed
Bare
But trust the Gardener
Trust that which speaks to you through everything
Everyone
Through your Heart
Trust that which knows no games
But sees the games for what they are
Open-ended futility
Trust that which knows where the roots are
That which can see the invisible root system in the ground
Even when the weeds themselves are gone
Don’t gaslight yourself into minimizing your experience
But really honor your courage and strength
To have the willingness to see to speak to act
In accordance to what feels True for You
No matter what
And find the support where you can
Because we can’t do this alone
And it’s okay to move slow
To be unproductive
Uneventful
Unorganized
Honor the tiredness
Honor the tears
Honor the bag of fears
Nothing needs to be skipped over
Nothing needs to be sped past
Nothing.