feel the grass under your toes. no feel it, really, truly truly — set your phone aside, walk outside a moment til you find some green, however near or far it may be, take your shoes off. wiggle your toes in the grass. let your heart be a kid again. the earth is warm, she’s holding her warmth out for your uncertain toes and heart. it’s my own heart’s prayer, it’s a prayer for you, a prayer for all of us that with time we’ll make peace with the earth mother gave us to stand on, even in the heavy midst of the unclarity that wraps our hearts. be gentle with your heart when it asks for patience. your heart knows the way home, be still and listen. don’t forget to garden your heart today, dear, gently, gently please. these wildflowers, your favorite wildflowers that line this fogged mountain path have always been yarrow long before you ever knew their name, waiting gently to mend your bleeding broken feet. chase bravely and boldly what mends your heart softer and your mind stronger. that is healing, i think. follow what mends your heart softer, your mind stronger — it is hope too. no one has a heart and mind like yours. we need you for it. let your heart be brave, quiet, afraid and hopeful all at once. it will all be ok, dear. all, all, all all. the earth still holds you, she always has and always will. let her hold you. breathe, breathe. breathe. you are so deeply loved. close your eyes, feel the changes of the breeze on your face. the sun still rises, and even the densest fog can’t hold that light back forever. be gentle, let the dust in your heart settle. we’re all only looking for our home.