No tree shoots up in a day. It starts as a seed, tiny and unseen. Then it roots itself. Quietly. […]
I used to think I didn’t like physical touch. For years, I associated it with discomfort, with feeling unsafe, with
There’s a quiet kind of shame we carry when we’ve been taught that our bodies are problems to solve. That
No one expects a tree to grow overnight. Or a lioness to know how to hunt perfectly the first time.
We often imagine that love will find us when we’ve finally gotten everything right—when we’ve healed all the wounds, figured
Sometimes we talk about self-love like it’s this big, sparkly moment—like you’ll wake up one day and just feel it.
After everything you’ve been through, it’s only natural to feel a little hesitant. Maybe you’ve been hurt by people you
There’s something quietly sacred about watching My Octopus Teacher. No gods, no angels, no miracles—just a man, a camera, and
There’s something quiet but powerful about how rivers work. They don’t crash through the land in one big moment. They