Fyodor Dostoevsky
Upon waking she felt the familiar firm futon below her rested body. It was still dark, windy and had been raining all night long. She usually loved to get up before the sun to write and share her soul with others. For some reason, today was different. She did not love herself completely, by not feeling she had enough to say, to write, to share.
Somehow, she fell back into a light sleep to dream. She dreamed of her bedroom windows, looking out. Her neighbors could look into her bedroom window. She was examining the tall, bare, curtainless windows. Trying to figure out what material would look best hanging as curtains. Something to allow the light in, yet maintain a level of privacy. A soft golden cotton was decided.
She awoke into the same dark windy rainy morning. She sat up for a minute before stepping up onto the carpet. She had so much love coming to her, from all points in the universe. She decided it was time to love herself, without compromise. Not to care so much if others did not resonate with what she had to write or share. She'd make coffee, find a quote that best reflected what she was desiring "more of" in her world. Then, she would, with wind and rain as her witness, write.
loving ourselves and all we are connected with, allows the universe to bless us infinitely
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