Reach out, reach up, someone will lend a hand to us if we lend one of ours to them.
Maybe, next to the equipment at the rental place, there could be a rack - like they do for gloves, some rights and lefts, some small assortment of styles - but mostly these are hands for work, sorted by thickness of their skin, for hard labour or soft, these are hands for renting, for lending out and returning because we all have two, but sometimes we need to rely another …
Yesterdays, and yesterday - that is where failings, failures, and where all our old failings are stored. Every mistake I’ve ever made is there, preserved for frequent and uncomfortable review, and it feels more and more like a stew pot left on the stove a few days too long - time to throw them out in favour of entirely new mistakes.
We don't bounce back.
We haul ourselves upright, patch the dents, and keep walking.
We overhaul.
The world doesn’t stop for your pain. Or mine.
But neither does it stop us from showing up anyway.
We seek light.
No need to seek the heavy; it finds us every time.
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