Trust your instincts even if they are wrong. Let wonder take you. There is a process that marinates. It may not be this year or even next but if you recommit to that dream. The matches will ignite. Let the firey passion not ration.
It is that which is you. The wild heart. Root down when needed but fly when scared. There is this gift that shouts out, “use me”. Let your joys dance with chance.
It is a true commitment. To get slapped by the dream. Dropped down by tears. Yet you press on and say, “I love you dear”. The imperfect journey is just my type of ordinary.