I don’t even know what. The past four days have held the highest of highs, as well as the frazzliest of frazzling moments.

A friend recently called me a master plate spinner. And at this moment, I do believe I’ve dropped a few. And the others? I feel like throwing them.

So I close my eyes and do just that.

That visual feels… Powerful. Strong. Triumphant. Throwing those plates against the ground, watching each one shatter, and then taking the spinning sticks and smashing the fuck out of them. Pounding them until they are scattered everywhere. These sharp, odd shapes, like pieces of a mosaic.

But then…

I imagine gathering them up. Sitting in silence with them. Cradling them in my hands as their jagged edges prick my skin. This time truly seeing them, feeling them. Knowing them. I hold them close to my heart and feel a warm glow infusing them with love, compassion, self-care, patience, grace, and an acknowledgement that sometimes things need to break so that they can be put back together in a better way.

I feel that glow from my heart binding those pieces back together but… differently this time. They’ve changed.

And so have I.

J.H.