A Safe Place to Heal the Pain
There's always a place - a private place for each and every one of us. Maybe it's the ocean or an open field. A childhood tree house or temple or church. Or even the silence of a library.
Wherever it may be, it is a safe place to cry. The spirit feels held; the heart is freed.
Self becomes centered.
Time is the Most Precious Thing We Have
No matter how large or how miniscule an issue or problem, nothing changes the fact that we are here at this moment.
One with Earth, Sky, Sun, we can't see our blood cells unless under a microscope and we can't see the Heavens unless through a telescope – planets, solar systems, galaxies, universes and then there is you and me.
And if god/gods are real, I do hope they are looking through their microscopes – and if they have telescopes perhaps, they see what only we can imagine – or maybe they see us.
So at the end of the day there is only one thing that matters in this realm of Earth and Life and that is Time.
The Pnyx Hill: A Place to Cry and Heal
Nestled in the olive and cypress trees and cradled in the greatest echoes of ancient past; if the grounds of the Pnyx Hill could speak it would reveal endless stories but instead she grows chamomile and thyme from our tears.
There is a special spot, where once was once a column. It is here I sit and cry my tears. I don't feel judged nor embarrassed because scattered around this site, I've seen grown men and women shed their tears then pick themselves up ready enough for war.
What is it that brings us here?
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