Author: Morgan Harper Nichols

Here are 12 images that feature prose for each month of the year using the same lines throughout. This series started in October. October was the most popular month-poem I wrote this year, so I thought it’d be interesting to explore making a prose-version of it for each month of the year.

The main reason I wanted to make a version that repeated the same words month by month is because, for me, it’s never about trying to forecast some perfect, ideal aim for each month. Instead, my hope is that these words can function as small seeds planted in the soil that can grow in different ways and timelines, and to show how the same text can feel different at different points in your life.

We never know how each month will play out, and this is true in many directions: we can be surprised by what gently unfolds and also surprised by what arrives all at once. We can be surprised by grief and we can also be surprised by joy.

In October, I called the poem “possibility of surprising encounters,” which is what I hope carries through each month. My hope with these poems is not to give advice or tell you how things are going to be (because just like anyone else, of course, I don’t know…) but to use what I’ve learned to do as someone who tries to use creative language to navigate experiences, memory, and story. And in that way, I hope this kind of “month writing” can offer a small place to pause and notice what’s shifting using a recognizable frame of time (i.e., a month).

And also…something to remember is that a month is just one way to measure time and meaningfulness. In a literary sense, a month is a framing device, a narrative marker, but experience rarely fits such a neat frame. That’s okay too. Wherever you find yourself with these poems, with each month, I hope they can function as small prompts for noticing and imagining, whatever your timeline looks like.

Here’s to one month at a time, December, January, and beyond.

-MHN

Feel free to save these images! Scroll to the very end for the wallpaper versions.

JANUARY
And for all you know, January could end up surprising you in a really good way. Even if it’s something as small as the right moment the right song plays, the flickers of sunlight through branches at the end of the day, or little chances to feel grounded and alive, anyway. So, as you imagine every possibility, may there be room to imagine the good ones, too. Let what is beautiful in January be beautiful, even before everything else makes sense to you, because for all you know, January could end up surprising you in a really good way. Not because you’ve suddenly arrived at some perfect state, but because you’re still here, and that matters, even as you wait. After all the mountains and valleys you’ve traveled through, you’re still free to let a new month mean something to you. Let January be a horizon of yet-to-be-known moments, stretching beyond the mountains you’ve traced, valleys you’ve crossed, carrying onward what time carries: a chance to go on, a chance for something still to matter, even here.

FEBRUARY
And for all you know, February could end up surprising you in a really good way. Even if it’s something as small as the right moment the right song plays, the flickers of sunlight through branches at the end of the day, or little chances to feel grounded and alive, anyway. So, as you imagine every possibility, may there be room to imagine the good ones, too. Let what is beautiful in February be beautiful, even before everything else makes sense to you, because for all you know, February could end up surprising you in a really good way. Not because you’ve suddenly arrived at some perfect state, but because you’re still here, and that matters, even as you wait. After all the mountains and valleys you’ve traveled through, you’re still free to let a new month mean something to you. Let February be a horizon of yet-to-be-known moments, stretching beyond the mountains you’ve traced, valleys you’ve crossed, carrying onward what time carries: a chance to go on, a chance for something still to matter, even here.

MARCH
And for all you know, March could end up surprising you in a really good way. Even if it’s something as small as the right moment the right song plays, the flickers of sunlight through branches at the end of the day, or little chances to feel grounded and alive, anyway. So, as you imagine every possibility, may there be room to imagine the good ones, too. Let what is beautiful in March be beautiful, even before everything else makes sense to you, because for all you know, March could end up surprising you in a really good way. Not because you’ve suddenly arrived at some perfect state, but because you’re still here, and that matters, even as you wait. After all the mountains and valleys you’ve traveled through, you’re still free to let a new month mean something to you. Let March be a horizon of yet-to-be-known moments, stretching beyond the mountains you’ve traced, valleys you’ve crossed, carrying onward what time carries: a chance to go on, a chance for something still to matter, even here.

APRIL
And for all you know, April could end up surprising you in a really good way. Even if it’s something as small as the right moment the right song plays, the flickers of sunlight through branches at the end of the day, or little chances to feel grounded and alive, anyway. So, as you imagine every possibility, may there be room to imagine the good ones, too. Let what is beautiful in April be beautiful, even before everything else makes sense to you, because for all you know, April could end up surprising you in a really good way. Not because you’ve suddenly arrived at some perfect state, but because you’re still here, and that matters, even as you wait. After all the mountains and valleys you’ve traveled through, you’re still free to let a new month mean something to you. Let April be a horizon of yet-to-be-known moments, stretching beyond the mountains you’ve traced, valleys you’ve crossed, carrying onward what time carries: a chance to go on, a chance for something still to matter, even here.

MAY
And for all you know, May could end up surprising you in a really good way. Even if it’s something as small as the right moment the right song plays, the flickers of sunlight through branches at the end of the day, or little chances to feel grounded and alive, anyway. So, as you imagine every possibility, may there be room to imagine the good ones, too. Let what is beautiful in May be beautiful, even before everything else makes sense to you, because for all you know, May could end up surprising you in a really good way. Not because you’ve suddenly arrived at some perfect state, but because you’re still here, and that matters, even as you wait. After all the mountains and valleys you’ve traveled through, you’re still free to let a new month mean something to you. Let May be a horizon of yet-to-be-known moments, stretching beyond the mountains you’ve traced, valleys you’ve crossed, carrying onward what time carries: a chance to go on, a chance for something still to matter, even here.

JUNE
And for all you know, June could end up surprising you in a really good way. Even if it’s something as small as the right moment the right song plays, the flickers of sunlight through branches at the end of the day, or little chances to feel grounded and alive, anyway. So, as you imagine every possibility, may there be room to imagine the good ones, too. Let what is beautiful in June be beautiful, even before everything else makes sense to you, because for all you know, June could end up surprising you in a really good way. Not because you’ve suddenly arrived at some perfect state, but because you’re still here, and that matters, even as you wait. After all the mountains and valleys you’ve traveled through, you’re still free to let a new month mean something to you. Let June be a horizon of yet-to-be-known moments, stretching beyond the mountains you’ve traced, valleys you’ve crossed, carrying onward what time carries: a chance to go on, a chance for something still to matter, even here.

JULY
And for all you know, July could end up surprising you in a really good way. Even if it’s something as small as the right moment the right song plays, the flickers of sunlight through branches at the end of the day, or little chances to feel grounded and alive, anyway. So, as you imagine every possibility, may there be room to imagine the good ones, too. Let what is beautiful in July be beautiful, even before everything else makes sense to you, because for all you know, July could end up surprising you in a really good way. Not because you’ve suddenly arrived at some perfect state, but because you’re still here, and that matters, even as you wait. After all the mountains and valleys you’ve traveled through, you’re still free to let a new month mean something to you. Let July be a horizon of yet-to-be-known moments, stretching beyond the mountains you’ve traced, valleys you’ve crossed, carrying onward what time carries: a chance to go on, a chance for something still to matter, even here.

AUGUST
And for all you know, August could end up surprising you in a really good way. Even if it’s something as small as the right moment the right song plays, the flickers of sunlight through branches at the end of the day, or little chances to feel grounded and alive, anyway. So, as you imagine every possibility, may there be room to imagine the good ones, too. Let what is beautiful in August be beautiful, even before everything else makes sense to you, because for all you know, August could end up surprising you in a really good way. Not because you’ve suddenly arrived at some perfect state, but because you’re still here, and that matters, even as you wait. After all the mountains and valleys you’ve traveled through, you’re still free to let a new month mean something to you. Let August be a horizon of yet-to-be-known moments, stretching beyond the mountains you’ve traced, valleys you’ve crossed, carrying onward what time carries: a chance to go on, a chance for something still to matter, even here.

SEPTEMBER
And for all you know, September could end up surprising you in a really good way. Even if it’s something as small as the right moment the right song plays, the flickers of sunlight through branches at the end of the day, or little chances to feel grounded and alive, anyway. So, as you imagine every possibility, may there be room to imagine the good ones, too. Let what is beautiful in September be beautiful, even before everything else makes sense to you, because for all you know, September could end up surprising you in a really good way. Not because you’ve suddenly arrived at some perfect state, but because you’re still here, and that matters, even as you wait. After all the mountains and valleys you’ve traveled through, you’re still free to let a new month mean something to you. Let September be a horizon of yet-to-be-known moments, stretching beyond the mountains you’ve traced, valleys you’ve crossed, carrying onward what time carries: a chance to go on, a chance for something still to matter, even here.

OCTOBER
And for all you know, October could end up surprising you in a really good way. Even if it’s something as small as the right moment the right song plays, the flickers of sunlight through branches at the end of the day, or little chances to feel grounded and alive, anyway. So, as you imagine every possibility, may there be room to imagine the good ones, too. Let what is beautiful in October be beautiful, even before everything else makes sense to you, because for all you know, October could end up surprising you in a really good way. Not because you’ve suddenly arrived at some perfect state, but because you’re still here, and that matters, even as you wait. After all the mountains and valleys you’ve traveled through, you’re still free to let a new month mean something to you. Let October be a horizon of yet-to-be-known moments, stretching beyond the mountains you’ve traced, valleys you’ve crossed, carrying onward what time carries: a chance to go on, a chance for something still to matter, even here.

NOVEMBER
And for all you know, November could end up surprising you in a really good way. Even if it’s something as small as the right moment the right song plays, the flickers of sunlight through branches at the end of the day, or little chances to feel grounded and alive, anyway. So, as you imagine every possibility, may there be room to imagine the good ones, too. Let what is beautiful in November be beautiful, even before everything else makes sense to you, because for all you know, November could end up surprising you in a really good way. Not because you’ve suddenly arrived at some perfect state, but because you’re still here, and that matters, even as you wait. After all the mountains and valleys you’ve traveled through, you’re still free to let a new month mean something to you. Let November be a horizon of yet-to-be-known moments, stretching beyond the mountains you’ve traced, valleys you’ve crossed, carrying onward what time carries: a chance to go on, a chance for something still to matter, even here.

DECEMBER
And for all you know, December could end up surprising you in a really good way. Even if it’s something as small as the right moment the right song plays, the flickers of sunlight through branches at the end of the day, or little chances to feel grounded and alive, anyway. So, as you imagine every possibility, may there be room to imagine the good ones, too. Let what is beautiful in December be beautiful, even before everything else makes sense to you, because for all you know, December could end up surprising you in a really good way. Not because you’ve suddenly arrived at some perfect state, but because you’re still here, and that matters, even as you wait. After all the mountains and valleys you’ve traveled through, you’re still free to let a new month mean something to you. Let December be a horizon of yet-to-be-known moments, stretching beyond the mountains you’ve traced, valleys you’ve crossed, carrying onward what time carries: a chance to go on, a chance for something still to matter, even here.

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Wallpaper Versions

for December:
everything may not
change at once,
but that doesn’t mean
nothing will change at all…

you are allowed
to acknowledge
the possibility
of something good
starting to shift,
even if it begins small.

for perhaps,
after all the Decembers
you have lived through,
you are still free to consider
how this December
can be different for you.

whether this year
felt different from others,
or more like the same old thing,
or some tangled and turning path
in the wildwood of the between,
you are free to have hope
for things that hold,
wonder that knows no end,
timing that works out,
and good songs
worth playing on repeat,
again and again.
if something in you
dares to even consider it,
you are still free to have this hope.

beautiful new beginnings
can start later than you thought.

small shifts
can have a larger impact
than you realized.

honest, grounded hope
can return where you thought it was over.

you can still experience
the sense of possibility
you once thought
was only possible
for other people.

yes, you can be
surprised by grief
in this life,
but perhaps,
you can also
be surprised
by joy.

everything may not
change at once,
but that doesn’t mean
nothing will change at all.
you are allowed
to acknowledge
the possibility
of something good
starting to shift,
even if it begins small.

and even if it is in
the most subtle way,
you are free
to think of December as a place
where leaves part
from their branches
and make room for you
to come into the forest’s clearing
and let yourself breathe again.

–

for all that comes next,
may December breathe slowly
in ways you did not expect.
may you meet this month
with both curiosity and gentleness.

make space for
moments of clarity where you need to
and create room to simply be
where you need to.
let December be what it needs to be.

let December be what it needs to be.

MHN

Different seasons have rhythms. Others may be slow or uncertain, where instead of a clear change, there are only small shifts…spaces where you may not always even be sure what the season is trying to show you.

However, much like physical seasons such as autumn or winter have markers of gradual change that we cannot always understand in real time, perhaps the same is true for us, as we navigate seasons of change in our own lives.

A mindful pace doesn’t have to look like feeling sure or feeling organized every day. Instead, it can be the brief moment that helps you stay steady in those quiet, in-between times when you can finally notice what you need right now.

It might not always feel clear in the moment, but it’s in spaces like this where you can start to realize that you have been pacing yourself through the seasons, learning your way through whatever this time is revealing, one day at a time. Every time you pause, or even feel the wish to pause to think, to rest, or just exist for a moment, is a small act of noticing yourself.

This is the mindful pace you are likely already beginning to build without even realizing it: the ability to sense where there might be limits and respond to them with awareness of what you can do right here, even as you hold the reality of what’s ahead. In other words, the small, simple, easy-to-overlook moments where you have paused long enough to notice what you actually need matter more than you know.

Even when the season feels uncertain, pausing long enough to notice what you need is a meaningful act. An act of slowing down that helps you recognize rhythms of where you are and what this time is asking of you, even here. – Morgan Harper Nichols

Words to repeat to yourself:

I look for places in life where I can audaciously practice saying: “Seeds are still being sown, good change is still possible, and there are still many encounters with fulfilling love, joy, and peace waiting to be discovered, nurtured, and shared. Even here, there is more to come.”

–

The key word here is “practice.” You are allowed to practice continuing when things still feel in-between. Even if it only begins with a few words uttered or written down on a piece of paper, it still counts as movement: a small act of staying in conversation with what is still taking form.

Continue to name possibility.

Let it be a record of engagement with what’s right here.

Let your attention toward what could be emerging stay in motion.

– Morgan Harper Nichols

If you’re feeling overwhelmed by an unknown future, you’re not alone. And here’s a little something I learned from my acoustic guitar about facing an unknown future:

Once, when I was playing my guitar and I noticed how the music that comes from this instrument doesn’t just come from the guitar’s body itself, the part that I can see.

The music actually rises from that dark hollowed out place behind the string, the place that I can’t see so well.

This caused me to pause and wonder:

What if it’s okay if the future doesn’t always feel bright? What if, in the darkness of the unknown, I could trust: the music will still rise up the way it was meant to?

Perhaps.

the hollowed-out

shadowy heart

of the acoustic guitar

teaches us this:

even when we feel overwhelmed

by a future that seems dim,

right here, in these unknowns,

melodies can still have their say.

From the darkest place of the instrument, the music plays.

Dandelions can grow in a variety of climates and terrains, showing a kind of attunement…a way of noticing and responding to what each place offers. Their steady continuing, wherever they land, reflects how learning often happens through everyday experiences. Perhaps, dandelions in their own way remind us that continuing is a kind of noticing…being here long enough to feel the day as it is, and being gentle with yourself through all that is discovered. When we pay attention to the small and changing details around us, understanding begins to take root, just as the dandelion keeps finding ways to bloom. 🧡

Let the process of honoring your capacity become a meaningful experience all on its own:

There will be some days where your strength is stronger than others, and you will feel like you can take on more than ever before. There are some days where you might feel much more courageous or maybe even willing to take a leap of faith in some way. There are times where you might be keenly aware that you just have to focus on being gentle with yourself. There are days where you feel a greater capacity for patience. But on all of these days, no matter where you find yourself, it is still meaningful to be here at all. You are still uncovering many layers of who you are and how you are learning to stay connected and grounded amidst it all…even if you don’t feel like you can do everything at once.

Perhaps the reason why we may not feel like we are able to do all of these things at once is because even though words like “patience” and “courage” are big and can feel overarching, they are words that we can also see as layers, layers that we may move through. There may be days or moments where we feel strong, courageous, patient, and gentle all at once but if we don’t feel all that at once, maybe that’s okay too.

Maybe we are allowed to pace ourselves as we move through each day, honoring our capacity. – Morgan Harper Nichols

“Discovery” is a word that could possibly carry strong connotations…. It might evoke the thrill of a treasure hunt or, conversely, the unease of stumbling upon something you’d rather not have found. However, “discovery” can also be about navigating that space in between, in the tension: it can be a moment that asks you to respond, even before you fully understand. And because discovery can take form through what you decide to do next, this can look like:

Seeking help when you need to
Establishing personal boundaries when necessary
Taking a break when you need to
Thinking critically when required|
Feeling deeply when you need to
Taking the lead when it’s called for
Taking your time when necessary
Letting go when you must
Asserting yourself when you need to

These kinds of actions become ways of learning what different moments of life are made of. They allow you to discover meaning even before things make sense. And with each new insight, consider it a brushstroke on the expansive canvas of your life: brushstrokes that show how meaning starts to form through what you do over time. Each contributes to your ongoing journey of being fully present in the here and now. 

So here’s to embracing discovery as a way of recognizing what each moment calls for: curiosity and presence.

Here’s to expanding what it means to discover: as a process of participation that produces understanding through cumulative action we can take, even in small ways. – Morgan Harper Nichols

it is okay
if it takes time
to find your place
in what keeps changing.
like the sky at the
edge of evening,
you have been learning
how to carry memory of
the sun’s fire through the dark,
while also allowing morning
to arrive on its own time.
it hasn’t been easy,
for so much as been shifting,
and yet, you have yet to disappear.
you’re still here,
slowly finding
rhythms in daylight,
gently remembering
how to live
fully again.

As you learn to let go, you are also free to imagine what you could be. Even here, in October, you are free to observe and notice what flowers still bloom alongside the changing, crumbling leaves. For after everything you have been through, and for all of the “letting go’s” and “goodbyes” that have taken shape, today, is still a brand new day.

And I know that today being a brand new day doesn’t change everything. It doesn’t make uncertainty go away or absence suddenly feel resolved. But perhaps, as sunlight filters through the leaves that remain steady on the trees and flowers appear on window sills and places you might not even expect, you are still free to imagine what continuity might mean: a way of staying with what is present, even as things keeps shifting. For perhaps, even here, you are free to consider: how change might hold more than one thing at once.

And if something in you seeks to welcome this kind of being present in any way, may you know it doesn’t have to be a grand gesture. Even a simple question is more than enough to soften into a space where imagination begins to feel less like an escape and more of an entry point into noticing what is already taking shape, even here, in the wild of October.

Perhaps, you might ask yourself…

What could begin now?
What might start again?
What has been here all along, just waiting to be seen?

Let this season be what it needs to be while also knowing, you are still free to dream. You are still free to notice what blooms, what endures, what returns, and what reminds you, you are free to cultivate a sense of aliveness, right here.

As fallen leaves and flowers can exist within the same landscape, “letting go” and “continuing on” can share the same space, too: what releases and what remains form a rhythm that both end up shaping you, and you discover what remains after letting go: A space to imagine what continues to take shape. – Morgan Harper Nichols

Words to repeat to yourself:
Even while learning from others,
I respect my unique process, too.
It matters to take time to cultivate
the kind of rhythms that make sense
for where I currently am.

The word “learning” tends to lend itself to movement: it can feel very external, active… a way of reaching out toward others, toward what is not yet known. This can be a beautiful thing: it opens connection, dialogue, and growth. Learning from others is so central to how ideas and skills circulate. And at the same time, there may be seasons where movement turns inward. You might start to reflect on all you’ve been taking in and wonder: “Am I actually understanding any of this?” “Or am I just trying to keep up?” In this space, even when we don’t use the word comparison, there might be a tendency to measure ourselves against others, questioning whether we’re moving fast enough or doing enough. But when we arrive here, it doesn’t mean we have to shut down or start over. Respecting your own process, in this sense, means noticing how learning actually unfolds for you, even when it doesn’t match the pace or pattern of others.

Over time, that awareness can turn into a kind of steadiness, where learning isn’t just about taking in more and more, and more about understanding what has already taken root. In this way: the word “learning” can also reflect return. After years and years of listening, trying, and revising, it can be a way of taking and shaping rhythms that make sense for where you currently are. To learn is to locate. To locate, even when the map changes. To keep listening, even after you’ve heard so much. And when learning takes that shape, it stops being about arrival at all, and becomes the ongoing practice of being where you are. – Morgan Harper Nichols

One way to think about gratitude is to think of it as if you were moving through a landscape, intentionally looking for the smallest, beautiful things worth noticing. You might notice flowers or blades of grass or dragonflies swarming about. As you move through the space, noticing those small things, you may eventually reach a point where those small things aren’t so small at all, and slowly but surely, they become a part of a bigger picture. This doesn’t mean that everything is perfect or easy in this landscape. However, by navigating in such a way that you were focusing on those small things, you start to notice that there was more to the picture than you may have initially realized.

When it comes to real life, we may not be able to create a comprehensive gratitude list for every single thing every day, but we can practice looking for small ways to acknowledge what we are grateful for and let it become a way of exploring where we are in a new way. This doesn’t mean we’re ignoring everything else, instead, it’s a way to go deeper where we are, how we can. – Here’s to gratitude, even in the smallest ways…a way of moving through experience…a way of noticing how the “good small things” might become not so small at all, on the journey, one day at a time. – Morgan Harper Nichols

Sometimes “strength” looks like taking a deep breath.
Sometimes “strength” is, “I am doing what I can right here, and that’s okay.”
Sometimes “strength” is asking for help when you need it.
Sometimes “strength” is a quiet moment of letting go.

Whatever form your strength takes, may you know that you are free to embody it in whatever way you know how.

This week, embrace your gentle strength by recognizing that you don’t have to do everything on your own. Even when it’s hard to make sense of anything beyond all of the responsibilities, this remains true: your strength is not measured by how much you can carry, but a reflection of a courage that shows in many places, including the quiet moments and small, gentle strength. – Morgan Harper Nichols

Here’s to practicing courage when it comes to being yourself. It’s not always easy, but it’s a journey that is always worth it.

Here are some questions to think about on this journey:

When do you feel most like the real you?
Who or what helps you feel most yourself?
When do you feel most genuine?
What activities or situations make you feel fully alive?

Even if it takes time to answer these questions, know that you are worthy of this journey. The journey of discovering where you feel just a little bit more free, regardless of what others think. Continue to reflect on where you feel free to be you. – Morgan Harper Nichols

There are new ideas up ahead of you.

There are new connections waiting to be made, even in the smallest ways.

And remember, it doesn’t always have to be that one big idea that makes a difference.

An idea is “a suggestion or plan for doing something.” It can also be “knowledge or understanding about something.”*

An idea might even sound like,

“What if I tried this?”

“Maybe this will work.”

“Here’s a thought.”

“It’s worth a try.”

“Here’s what I’ve been thinking…”

“Consider this…”

Not all ideas have to be big ideas to matter. Not all ideas have to be big ideas to reflect this beautiful truth: you are still learning and growing and making new connections right here. – Morgan Harper Nichols

Let this be the October you allow your heart to the possibility that you might be surprised in a good way. For all of the times in life where unexpected changes and shifts have found you, you are still free to consider: good change can still find you, too.

It might be slow coming, and you may still remember all the other times flickers of hope were futile, and quickly faded with shifting winds, but even then, the larger landscape you have been is still wide. Up above you, there is still an open sky and all around you, there is still a chance to be alive with an audacious belief: yesterday was not the end. 

As you move into October, release yourself from the pressure of perfection. Let yourself ease into each moment. You do not have to immediately begin counting down the days to the end of the year. Even though there is much to do, it still matters to find a steady rhythm here. Let yourself oscillate between effort and rest. And if that’s something you don’t feel like you know how to do yet, be kind to yourself as you practice it. 

Every time you think of “tomorrow” this October, remember to exhale however you can. Keep noticing the soil beneath you. Let yourself be grounded here, even before you know what’s ahead. 

Let this be the October you allow your heart to the possibility that you might be surprised in a good way. And no matter what changes or stays the same, may the groundedness, aliveness, and wholeheartedness be here to stay. – Morgan Harper Nichols

Today’s post is an excerpt from my Storyteller app. Thank you to all who support this work!

Remember the ways you have grown since last year. And remember: You don’t have to think of growth in linear, step-by-step ways. Like rings on a tree and flowing rivers, growth comes in many shapes. Like stars, your growth may be scattered, yet over time it forms a pattern worth recognizing.

Sometimes growth looks like having grown from one year to the next in age.
Sometimes growth looks like having been alive while flowers, trees, and blades of grass were growing, too.
Sometimes growth looks like realizing… you want to grow. You want to breathe deep and meet a new version of yourself.

Whatever “growth” looks like for you, no matter how big or small, and no matter if it feels like a set of stairs, tree rings, or a winding path, I just hope you know that even the most subtle ways you have grown are worth acknowledging, building upon, and being grateful for. – Morgan Harper Nichols

Whether you have felt that September has gone by quickly, slowly, or somewhere in between, what remains true is that there have been so many days you have made it through. May you never discredit how far you have come.

And remember this: remembering how far you have come doesn’t mean you’re ignoring the present moment; instead, it is an opportunity to move onward with gratitude. Gratitude for the progress you have been making, even in subtle ways, from one day to the next.

While taking a moment to pause might not fix everything, perhaps it can still become a reminder that amidst everything, you have still been on a journey…a journey where there is room to reflect, to heal, to learn, and to grow. All of the winding paths you’ve already made it through matter more than you know.

Take a moment to rest, however you can. You’re worth it.

Remember how far you’ve come.