On Spring and Grace

  The Painter and the Pianist by Lionello Balestrieri I think comparison is a tendency we all have. Why isn't my life more exciting? Why do they get to have that when I don't? Why is it that I can work hard and still not earn everything I wish for? Life can be rather fickle that way. I suddenly became acutely aware of how free other people seemed and romanticized their ability to live with so much ease and joy in their own bodies. In contrast, I felt like I could barely live with myself. I wanted so deeply to have inner peace that it felt like everyone was happier than I was, and it was incredibly unfair. But that wasn't true, at least not in the way I believed. And now I think it's a pity that I spent so much time comparing when I could have taken inspiration from those very same people. I didn't want their lives, not really. I wanted the happiness I believed they possessed. A lot of these feelings, when unpacked, reveal so much about ourselves. If you are chasing ...

Miranda, The Tempest by John William Waterhouse (1916) Just like we might go see a film, wander through an art gallery, get swept up in a play, or lose ourselves in a good book, I really believe there’s something powerful about letting our imaginations breathe. There’s value in stepping away, even briefly from the heavier, more routine parts of life. It’s not about ignoring reality, but about adding a little romance to it. Seeing each day as a page in a story, something a bit magical. The truth is, our view of life is narrow, like peeking through a keyhole. There’s always more out there, more to feel, more to imagine. And while dreaming might happen while we sleep, it’s still an active part of our lives. It shapes us, whether we notice it or not. When I was little, I defended the existence of unicorns like it was my job. Anyone who questioned it was instantly on my bad side. But now, as an adult, I get that their presence in the world doesn’t have to be literal. They exist in stories...