Spaces like these bring so much peace to my heart.
Whether we mean it or not, productivity is charged with a complex definition; what you produce has to be something we can measure against society’s standards, and it has to be useful.
Promote growth wherever you can.
When life slips down the hill, Katie and I often turn to each other and ask each other the same question: What is the point? With our feet slipping, trying to stop everything from falling, our arms aching and our bodies covered in mud, we scream WHAT IS THE POINT IN TRYING SO HARD?
My name is Evee. Not Evie or Eve, and in fact I dislike both of those names quite strongly.
What alarmed me most was the vacantness in her eyes as if being present was too much to bear.
I thought I knew grief but this was different.
Now is the season, the time of the year towards the end of January and the beginning of February, that I get catapulted from a time of bith celebrations, into the furnace of grief – to go back through the smithing process again, for refinement.
But mum was right. Sooner or later, I have to find my way back to that gentle place. It’s scary and it’s vulnerable and it can die a billion times between each victory…