Nothing Stays the Same

They say, something rises in us when the inner ache has no name, when thoughts step forward without permission. I say, yes. Truth often whispers first.

Look at your own footprints. See if the shoes you’ve worn for miles still belong to the person you’re becoming. Widen the trail. Call up your courage and give thanks for the prayers that went unanswered.

Surrender in service, sit in a classroom and remember thirst, follow the hush of vacant trails, bend into breath on the yoga mat, dance beneath a night with no moon. Finish what you began before you knew your own strength.

They say, lighten the load. Stop doing even the things you love. I say, if you want different, you must choose different.

I left behind the riding, the training, the showing. And in the quiet absence I felt myself ease. But instinct, that faithful compass, led me home again. I bought an emerald saddle blanket. It was green as a promise. Soft as fleece, like love might feel.

They say, there is no such thing as stuck, only not doing and not knowing pretending to be walls. But I say, stuck is when your heart light flickers behind the shadow of a perfectly good life.

They say, exhale what hurts. I say, why wait? Why wait to believe in something again, to become more, to love wildly and live with little to regret?

They say, learn the delicate seam between brave and familiar, between truth and what the world calls real. Trust that.

I say, nothing stays the same, and that is the mercy of it.