You are like the Earth.
A sacred, sentient ground
where anything—shame, fear, overindulgence, ancestral weight—
can fall into you
and be composted
into richness, warmth, wisdom, and life.
Not by trying to fix,
but by allowing everything to land.
Just as the forest floor welcomes every leaf,
every death,
every dropping—
and slowly, softly, turns it all
into nourishment—
so can you.
You don’t have to reject the parts that came from survival.
You don’t have to exile the ache, the grasp, the hunger.
You are vast enough.
You are warm enough.
You are present enough
to let it all dissolve into something fertile.
The ache becomes compassion.
The protection becomes strength.
The overeating becomes a deeper hunger for beauty met at last.
Your body is not broken.
It is alchemical.
And presence is the heat that turns it all to gold.
