Tools.

We are all given tools.  Simple tools with no instructions. Everyone’s tools are different. But equal.

What will YOU build? The house you choose to build will be the holder of your heart. Build wisely. Will your house fill its rooms with sharp, hateful words? Will your house hold fear. Does your house encourage you? Does your house cultivate awareness to your feelings? Do not be discouraged if the home you have built is, let’s say, not what the blue print looked like. Always is a time to rebuild.

Bull-doze that mother fucker down.

Re-plan.

Rebuild.

The next house needs more windows, my heart wants to hear the birds singing. Could we do less walls? No ceilings. And no shoes allowed, for sure. Can I have a cleaning lady oops, a cleaning person to come in and clean out my heart space? Is that possible? Are there google search engine results for that job?

I would love to have a garden, but I’m a horrible “tender.” I’m a “plant and see” kinda girl. So, could you pull the weeds taking up room in my heart space? It’s tough work. Who does that sort of thing?

Wait, me?

I have to plan and build and tend to my own heart space? Fuck. I don’t want to. I can’t. I’m scared. I suck.

“You MUST,” says my heart. You.