By Maya Stein
The way a haircut can reframe a face. The move to a zip code that gets less fog. More of this or less of that – I can think of a thousand ways to prove my eagerness to trade the current reality for its fresh and scrubbed alternative. It’s so tempting to believe a transformation of even minor proportions will be epic, felt somewhere in my deepest deep. But in the interim, we grieve
for what we don’t or can’t have, and that ache is paralyzing. I see it’s not change I’m after, but peace.
Tranquility and rootedness for everything that craves release.
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