Everyone in this room is a Limited Edition. Every single one of us.
I’m thinking that maybe I’ll get that etched somewhere. Over my heart, maybe. Because that little muscle is one of a kind in all of us.
It’s resilient and it’s broken and it’s cracked and it aches. It fills up and takes up a lot of real estate. It overrides the brain a lot.
It grows hard, won’t let one more person, one more lie, one more excuse in.
It stutters, loses its rhythm, opens way up, feels bruised.
It’s the only one like it. Anywhere.
We’re all glued together with sass and emotions, anger and judgements; with fear and music and stories. We carry around our histories and our grudges, our hurt and our anxiety and then all at once, someone recognizes the person underneath all of the webbing and a tribe starts.
A tribe with its misfits and its warriors, its nail biters and its lullaby singers. And the tribe only asks one thing from you.
It asks you to be careful, to be safe, to not be on a pedestal because pedestals sway-and you’re strong but you’re fragile and a limited edition.
A lover of mountains and raptors and if they happen at the same time, even better.
I have a small, simple blog at flyingjewels.wordpress.com. You are welcome anytime.