✨😭 Two Sides of the Coin 😍✨

Grief is one of our greatest paradoxes.

It’s raw, messy, and honest.

The wave that knocks us down, then pulls us deeper into ourselves than we’ve ever dared to go.

But here’s the part we often miss:

Grief doesn’t exist without love.

It is love — stretched beyond the edges of what we thought we could hold.

If you listen closely, you’ll feel it:

Under the heaviness, there’s a thread of warmth,

a glimmer that says: This ache only exists because I am so capable of love.

And when you lean into that

REALLY lean in

grief becomes your portal to aliveness.

It reminds us how finite life is.

It shows us how precious every sunrise is, how sweet a laugh feels when it breaks through the tears.

Grief isn’t something to “get over.”

It’s an invitation to be fully here

to stretch your capacity to feel it all.

So when your nervous system tries to pull you away from the big feelings — when it wants you to shut down, numb out, play small — pause.

It’s just doing its job, protecting you from what feels like too much.

But if you let yourself stay, if you trust your body’s wisdom,

those waves of grief can open more space inside you for the goodness too.

More capacity for joy.

More capacity for pleasure.

More capacity to stand in your messy, glorious humanity.

Because life is finite, and you are here for it today.

So hold the paradox:

the tears and the belly laughs.

The heartbreak and the wide-open heart.

Every rhythm that moves you is calling you to dance,

to sway, to stomp, to spin it out with a glowing grin.

Every belly laugh that wants to burst through you is asking you to open your throat, expand your lungs, let life fill every cell.

Every puddle is calling to be splashed in.

Every full moon is begging for your collective howl.

Every cute outfit you’ve tucked away for “later” wants to be worn today — flaunted, felt, loved.

Because when we live like that,

when we let our spark stay lit through the grief,

we become living reminders of what’s possible.

We become the lighthouse.

We become the permission slip for others to come home to themselves.

So next time the grief comes, feel it fully.

And next time love glimmers through, let it flood through you without guilt.

This is your birthright:

To grieve deeply and still live wildly.

To ache fiercely and still open your arms to the sunrise.

To keep that life force moving through you,

messy, bright, & holy,

so it spills into the world and keeps growing love long after every goodbye.

We’re not here to go numb.

We’re here to be alive,

Whole humans,

With our own heathen hearts.