Sometimes, you have to stop chasing people—just to see who notices, who comes back for you, and who keeps going without even realizing you’re gone.
We’re in a season of separation—not the rapture people were led to believe in, but a separation of frequencies. Everyone is tuning in to their own resonance, and not all of them will match yours. It’s also not always comfortable, but find what makes you happy.
Welcome others in—but don’t expect them to be happy inside your box. Let go of the need to control how people show up. Just let them be—so you can see who they truly are and how they move.
Not to change them, but to understand where they belong in your life and whether they support the frequency you’re trying to hold. Just one wrong person is all it takes to throw everything off—like driving 75 on the freeway with a flat tire. To put it in terms you can easily understand; one wrong note ruins the entire song.
Sometimes, we love people in spite of who they are and that is also okay. Be the mirror for them. Be the example—not in a “gotcha” kind of way, but in an “I see you” kind of way. We’re not measuring dicks here, we’re recognizing that not all have the same capacity to love. Not everyone’s love shows up like “mine” and we're not all on the same frequency.
And the weird thing is we always say we want a new life—but we keep trying to drag the old one with us without realizing it’s already a permanent part of you, in whatever shade it showed up wearing. There are many shades here in the world of shadows, and there is something to be learned about ourselves in every one of them.
I make it real simple when I try to explain this to people. Let's assume that my capacity to love is the size of a beach ball, and your capacity to love is the size of a baseball. I have realized that while it seems you gave less love than you took, I assume you handed me that whole baseball; you gave me everything you had to offer and it has to be enough. I have to believe you gave me everything that was mine, what was meant for me, and that alone is something to be grateful for.
We hear phrases like “My cup runneth over” or “You can’t pour from an empty cup.” But here’s what we don’t always consider—not all cups are the same size. Some people are walking around with teacups—delicate, small, easy to tip. Others are carrying pitchers, overflowing, always ready to give.
So when someone gives you all they have to offer, it might not fill your cup—but it may have emptied theirs. It has to be enough. The miracle is not in how much they gave, but that they gave from the fullest version of themselves they had access to. Love them for that.
Let me give you a little bit of the “Word”. In a world being controlled by forces so far removed from love, it’s a miracle that love still exists at all. And that miracle—that capacity to love—is Christ. That is the power of the Gods.
We’re in a season of separation—not the rapture people were led to believe in, but a separation of frequencies. Everyone is tuning in to their own resonance, and not all of them will match yours. It’s also not always comfortable, but find what makes you happy.
Welcome others in—but don’t expect them to be happy inside your box. Let go of the need to control how people show up. Just let them be—so you can see who they truly are and how they move.
Not to change them, but to understand where they belong in your life and whether they support the frequency you’re trying to hold. Just one wrong person is all it takes to throw everything off—like driving 75 on the freeway with a flat tire. To put it in terms you can easily understand; one wrong note ruins the entire song.
Sometimes, we love people in spite of who they are and that is also okay. Be the mirror for them. Be the example—not in a “gotcha” kind of way, but in an “I see you” kind of way. We’re not measuring dicks here, we’re recognizing that not all have the same capacity to love. Not everyone’s love shows up like “mine” and we're not all on the same frequency.
And the weird thing is we always say we want a new life—but we keep trying to drag the old one with us without realizing it’s already a permanent part of you, in whatever shade it showed up wearing. There are many shades here in the world of shadows, and there is something to be learned about ourselves in every one of them.
I make it real simple when I try to explain this to people. Let's assume that my capacity to love is the size of a beach ball, and your capacity to love is the size of a baseball. I have realized that while it seems you gave less love than you took, I assume you handed me that whole baseball; you gave me everything you had to offer and it has to be enough. I have to believe you gave me everything that was mine, what was meant for me, and that alone is something to be grateful for.
We hear phrases like “My cup runneth over” or “You can’t pour from an empty cup.” But here’s what we don’t always consider—not all cups are the same size. Some people are walking around with teacups—delicate, small, easy to tip. Others are carrying pitchers, overflowing, always ready to give.
So when someone gives you all they have to offer, it might not fill your cup—but it may have emptied theirs. It has to be enough. The miracle is not in how much they gave, but that they gave from the fullest version of themselves they had access to. Love them for that.
Let me give you a little bit of the “Word”. In a world being controlled by forces so far removed from love, it’s a miracle that love still exists at all. And that miracle—that capacity to love—is Christ. That is the power of the Gods.
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