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Moving on

I am amazed at how we manage to recover from a harrowing event, how we can move-on from sadness and memory to laughter and joy — that resilience, and what it means when, say, six months later life has changed.

I am amazed at how our heart works, how it lives, how it beats beyond the moment and after an inciting moment. It keeps musical time until it feels where the old boundaries were, and pushes further out yet.

Our bodies follow and push too, and push further and further. In-sync with our steadfast thumping heart. Until we are so far away it’s as if whatever we’ve pushed out or pushed off from only exists in the story we tell ourselves and others.

I am amazed with my beating heart, and my body that follows a little further each day.

Most moments don’t preserve. They are no match for the consistency of a beating heart. Knowing that creates a dull ache in the pit of my stomache because I want to preserve everything. But eventually, the old boundaries are so far away that I begin to feel the pleasures of true freedom.

Published inDaily Writing

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