It’s so easy to feel sad. So easy to feel low. But, before you say a word, you say, “There’s something you don’t know.” Like a voice saying it to you, from above or deep within. Like in a movie when you know more about the story than the character knows. Dramatic irony, I think it’s called? And you want to say, “No! Don’t say that,” because you know that character hasn’t got the whole story. And we never have the whole story. The big story is just too big for only one point of view. That sees very little, and often what it wants to. So you remember to stop and say, “There’s something you don’t know.” About the situation. About the other’s pain. About something that happened to her or him ages ago. Something that caused her to refrain. Maybe someday as a friend will do. Whatever way if you’re ever allowed in. That’ll do. Sometimes it’s the only thing to do. To feel the temperature. But don’t make the same mistake you almost made before. Always be there to listen. Always leave open a door. Today I lost a friend. A feathered one. Perhaps I lost two. It feels again this bond is done. The pain when life says you’re through. But I don’t buy that anymore. You taught me strength. No matter how many rocks are put in the path, you climb over or around – but never under them. You keep your head up. Because you know who you love. Your heart has told you so. You feel it all the time, it’s the compass that you tow. And you keep going. You simply keep on. You made me that. You make me strong. Instead of bowing my head and saying something foolish, out of pain. With the rain in my face, I’m determined to stay in the race. Finish line be damned. Even if I never cross that line, I’ll go out standing and wearing my boots. No face in the sand. You keep walking. That’s what you do. Because it’s not about you. You remember the words of Giles: *Blessed is she who loves, and therefore does not desire to be loved. Blessed is she who fears, and therefore does not desire to be feared. … And, because these are great things, the foolish do not rise to them.” That’s the beauty in the whole thing. The pain only comes when I make it about me. There’ll be loss of so many kinds. The death of a beautiful bird. The death of a friend. Whatever wilting on the vine. For some reason you think of Dawn Wells when she told that her father died, her boyfriend left her, and Gilligan’s Island was cancelled – all on the very same day. But, she did okay. You walk tall through the rain. You keep your heart open. You give love. You carry the pain. It will eventually let go. It’s the cost of dreaming big. There’s no such thing as a fool. Better to be silly and follow your heart. Wherever it is you go. A fool is called a fool because they should know the rules. Surely, pain will find their hearts. And, sure, the wise might be right. They’re called wise for a reason, I suppose. But let me live from my heart, no matter the season. Let me die all those little deaths. All those heartbreaks that open the gates. And let my tears do the rest. It’s a life fully lived when it’s a living from the heart. You go where it says. The mind works for itself. But the heart works for something bigger. Maybe you help someone, even if you never see it render. It’s like the Wizard when you’re sure the bag is empty. And he looks to the Tin Man, and he hands him a heart. And it’s worth plenty. All life is pain. It’s everywhere you look. But like the crucifixion, it’s the passage way to hope. You can’t avoid it. Life is always on the edge of a death. Always. But that death is change. That womb to a birth. Now you’re something bigger. From the caterpillar to the butterfly. You can’t see it when in the cocoon. It feels the world is ending. And yet it’s all starting to bloom. So keep your love, even with the pain it brings. It’s leading you to wonderful things. The wise might be wise. They know a lot of things. But let me work from the heart, no matter what it brings. It’s always a gift of something better, even if the box appears empty. What was inside is now all about, and lifting ones you love. On their journeys wherever they may be. When you’ve given of yourself, you touch the face of God. As I lay a little bird to sleep. You see all your loss when looking to the ground. But, no, you keep on. You walk strong and humble through the rain. With your head raised up, you take in heavenly birds in the skies. Wings flying free! Look at all your birds so high up in those grandest trees! Off on new adventures, they sing celestial songs for me. ❤️