The earth echoes our voice. It spreads a tune from here to way beyond. Gently caressing our souls with reverberated splendour.
But then we jolt. We jolt back to reality. Back to that which we were formed. Remembering the box to which we were placed. The labels of our ways.
Then on notes of steel and sharpened blades our quest continues. To thrive within the confines of messy labels. Expelling all joy of gentle echoes to harsh reality. Like a bite.
This piece pulls together takeaways from a few recent article reviews. The goal? To not let labels define us. Yet it takes on average around 2 months to put a new habit in place. If we haven’t quite got our head around things we just return to that which we know. Trying to thrive in the confines of the labels placed on us. The world we so well know.
short read, poetry, prose,