Sometimes (always), it wasn’t about wrong or right, and it wasn’t about making something be true when maybe it wasn’t, it was just about being: recognising that without the judgement – the constant need to make sense of things, make meaning of things….there was nothing left to fight, and there she found her peace.

And that peace pervaded everything if she let it. If she finally surrendered her desire to control, her fear that giving up what she thought she wanted would lead her to miss out on something meant for her, instead of gaining what she didn’t know she really wanted all along.

There is method in the madness. There is serenity in the surrender. There is peace in the perfectness. Could she cultivate a little more faith in this?

Photo taken at: Cornwall

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