I thought I was going to tell you the story of my tattoo tonight, but it’s just not the time. Instead, I’m sitting here listening to the waves batter the rocks and watching the smoke from my sage carry my intentions out into the universe.

My heart feels so damn messy right now. I don’t love that. But I know it’s a good part.

Letting yourself be messy is a good part. Settling so far into your skin that you start taking up more space is a good part. Letting the rust fall off the hinges of your heart so you can start letting people in is a really good part.

Good parts are hard as hell. But there’s beauty that exists within them you’re not going to find anywhere else.

Once upon a time I wrote these words and they have come true, as words spoken into the abyss have a tendency to do. “And the showing up will be worth it. It will be good. Like Sistine Chapel sunrises and the taste of ocean air. The way fresh made waffle cones pull you close with their scent or an uncracked book beckons with untold story smell. Like L’Engle and Neruda and the old Indiana Jones movies. On the other side is someone who will love you like all the best things.”

The best things, the good part. They’re here.

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