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I’ve come to realize there’s a profound difference between accepting imperfection and appreciating it. It’s the difference between seeing something through the lens of a pragmatist versus seeing it like an artist.
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It’s Monday morning. 7 a.m. I sit at the kitchen table, gazing out at the dawn. It’s not quite light, but no longer dark. This in-between moment holds both the arrival of light and the retreat of night. And later, as the day dims into dusk, the cycle will reverse. This liminal time feels like a perfect metaphor for the emotions surrounding me lately. A reminder that opposites often co-exist — joy and despair, hope and fear, sadness and light. One woven into the other. One fades so the other may rise.
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Shedding isn’t about drama or grand declarations. It’s not about throwing everything out or starting over. It’s about discernment — gently letting go of what no longer serves.
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