I love being in my 30s. Life is often tough and challenging but that’s also empowered and strengthened me. I don’t aim for happiness anymore, I’ve proven that to be fleeting and a state of mind. I just aim to live… and live well.
2 years in this little corner of the universe. My little corner. I’ve loved everything about it (location, size, light, layout). Even the things I didn’t like (old building), the things I felt I hated (weirdly low shell-shaped bathroom sink), the stuff I wish wasn’t (insane winter gas bill)… I now cherish, hold dear.
I remember how I was when I moved in here…and, phew, that me is someone (with gentleness) I’ll always look up to.
If I needed proof of that paradoxical outside/inside higher power/being, my 2 years here will always be (to me) proof.
I remember moving into this empty space and the wave of emotion every little thing set off in me.
I remember looking around and realizing that with every furniture I’ve assembled, every frame I’ve put up, every whim and space I’ve filled, every meal I’ve cooked, I slowly touched the ground.
I remember sitting, laying, standing, kneeling, dancing, jumping, singing — moving — knowing that with every move I’m (finally) having a conversation with my body.
This has been my sanctuary. My mud. My mat. My playpen. My hospital. My boxing ring. My core/strength-training space. My church. My magic carpet. My interrogation room. My creative outlet. My dream, my nightmare, my peace. My home.
Dramatic. I know. 🤣
And insanely grateful.
This place is far from perfect.
But it’s mine (for a time).
And it’s me (for a season).
What a gift.
Thank you, Little Corner of the universe I’ll always think of as home ♥️
