Eunoia (Heart work pays off)

We say it in the heat of the moment. “I’ll never speak to them again.” But “never” is a loud word whispered through cracked emotion. It feels final, but rarely is. Because when the storm settles, silence grows too loud. Memory walks in uninvited. You remember a laugh, a touch, a time when “never” was unthinkable. And suddenly, “forever” sounds more like a question than a conviction. We’re emotional architects, building walls to protect ourselves, then quietly wishing someone would knock them down. “Never” becomes a mask we wear when we’re wounded. But deep inside, we often hope they’ll prove us wrong. The truth is: “Never” is rarely about them. It’s about us. Our pain, our pride, our need for control. But time… time humbles. It softens edges, opens doors we thought were welded shut. So no, maybe we didn’t really mean it. Maybe “never” is just how we say, “I need space to heal.” And “forever”? It’s how long we carry people, even in their absence. Not every “never” stays broken, s...

“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...