Stop checking their barometers

those mercury measures

of who counts, who climbs,

who crosses finish lines

you never agreed to run toward.

Success is not a shared thermometer.

It's the warmth you feel

when you wake up

and recognize yourself

in the mirror of your own choosing.

You are not a rough draft

waiting for someone else's red pen.

You are the final version

of a story still being written,

each breath an edit

that makes you more

precisely who you are.

The miracle isn't coming.

The miracle is here

in the way your lungs

know how to fill and empty

without instruction,

in the way your heart

keeps perfect time

to a rhythm only you can hear.

Grace is not earned.

It's the gift you give yourself

when you stop keeping score

against a game

whose rules were written

by people who forgot

how to play.

Have fun.

Two words that sound

like childhood but taste

like revolution.

Permission to laugh

at the seriousness

of being human,

to dance badly

in your kitchen,

to be gloriously,

unapologetically

Ridiculous.

Gratitude is not a practice

it's a way of seeing

that turns ordinary Sunday

into a standing ovation

for the small magnificence

of being alive.

Watch the magic happen:

It's not in the sky.

It's in the space between

your thoughts,

in the pause before

you remember

you are already

everything you need

to be.

© Buzzedison July 2025