How the Sun Rises

Some move through the world
with an openness that unsettles others.
Real vulnerability is rarely met
with neutrality—
it is either admired or dismissed,
seen as strength or failure.

But those who feel deeply,
who refuse to shut themselves off,
do not do so out of ignorance.
They do it because
there is no other way to be.

Feeling deeply
is not something to be managed like a task.
It does not obey schedules or strategies.
It resists compartmentalization.

When the weight of the world presses in—
through injustice, grief,
or the sheer exhaustion of existing
in a time that demands so much
and gives so little—
relief is elusive.

The usual outlets lose their effect.
Creativity dims.
Sleep turns unreliable.
Meditation becomes another space
where the mind refuses to quiet.

People say connection is the answer,
but connection is not always there.
Some live without the safety net of family,
without the structure of community.
Some carry everything alone,
and no amount of knowing
they are “not alone” in the abstract
changes the visceral reality of solitude.

Even those who cherish being alone
can find themselves drowning in it
when the weight becomes
too much to bear in silence.

And yet, there are ways—
if not to lift the weight entirely,
then to shift it,
even for a moment.
Not solutions,
but breaks in the density,
a reminder that not everything is heavy.

Sometimes, it is in sound—
a voice vibrating through the body,
breaking through the silence.
Sometimes, it is in movement—
running, standing in the cold
just to feel the contrast,
pressing hands into the earth
as if anchoring to something
more solid than thought.

And sometimes, it is simply
in noticing persistence:
a tree still standing despite the storms,
the way ice melts without hesitation,
without permission,
the fact that the sun rises,
over and over,
whether anyone asks it to or not.

Faith is not always belief—
it is sometimes just the act
of holding on.
Not because of certainty,
but despite uncertainty.

There is no single answer,
no perfect fix.
But the asking matters.
The reaching matters.
The refusal to go numb,
even when every part of life
makes it easier to do so,
matters.

Because feeling—fully, deeply—
is not a weakness.
It is proof of being alive.
And that, in itself,
is worth holding onto.