Eunoia (Heart work pays off)

There’s a strange place we sometimes live, just beyond enough. Half past full. Where we over give, over do, overcompensate. Not because we have so much to offer, but because we fear being seen as lacking. We fill every silence with noise, every moment with motion, every relationship with effort that goes unnoticed. We pour from a cup that’s already tipping over, mistaking exhaustion for excellence. Half past full isn’t abundance, it’s imbalance. It’s when we smile wider to hide the fatigue, say yes to prove we’re worthy, do more so we’re not mistaken as less. It’s performing at the cost of presence. But we forget, wholeness isn’t about overflow. It’s about alignment. It’s knowing when full is enough. That you don’t need to be too much to matter. You don’t have to stretch past your soul to be seen. Half past full leads to empty. And what the world needs isn’t more from you, it’s the real you. Pace yourself. Pour less. And let peace be the measure of enough. If t...

“I am sailing, I am sailing…” , not just a lyric, but a longing. Rod Stewart’s voice carries more than melody; it carries the ache of distance, of love separated by time, water, and circumstance. But sailing, in this sense, is more than boats and oceans, it’s about returning to ourselves. We all sail, in some way. Through stormy emotions, through calm days of clarity, toward people we love, or versions of ourselves we lost. We sail when we leave toxic places. We sail when we chase freedom. We sail when we whisper a silent promise: I’m coming home , even if we don’t know where that is yet. The sea is both chaos and comfort,  just like life. One minute, you’re gliding with the wind at your back, and the next, you’re bailing out the water just to stay afloat. But still, you keep going. Because something, or someone, pulls you onward. Hope. Healing. Closure. Love. “I am flying, like a bird across the sky…” The song doesn't promise arrival. It promises movement. Intention. It reminds us...