On the theme of grief still, here is an excerpt from a poem by Maya Angelou that resonates so deeply within me:
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always irregularly.
Spaces fill with a kind of soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be better.
For they existed.
beautiful
We open ourselves to serve, and we are served. We open ourselves to give, and we receive. We open ourselves to lift someone else, and we are lifted. We open ourselves to give love, and we become love.
If god planted the seed, you nurtured it and sustained its reason to exist,
Dear ladies you are special, without you i’d only be an idea floating in the mist….
#shout out to every lady, women, girl etc - Keep blazing and pushing forward! 
“The mind is of the body. The brain will present all kinds of lies to the man who fears he is a liar, and present doubts to the doubter. This is the heart’s way of leading itself to perfect happiness. For the person who fears to externalize signs of affirmation, the mind will present opportunities for internal affirmations.
If I fear to dance with joy, my mind will present me with the thoughts that perhaps I am really sad and dour. This is a moment of fantastic, beautiful temptation. It is our natural given opportunity to affirm what we really believe. “I refuse to believe that I could be sad. I know that I have nothing to be dour about. I really believe that I’m okay.”
If we do not respond to these heart urgings in the mind truthfully, that is, happily consistent with the truth we know, then the relentless love in our heart will continually present these doubts until we acquiesce to what we know.
To the one who persistently refuses to believe, the thoughts will seem like assaults, the movements in the body will seem like torture. They are not attacks and assaults, but are the prompting questions of love manifesting themselves so that finally we can accept the happiness that we yearn so ardently for.
These so-called symptoms of unhappiness are not evidence of anything, not one thing else other than refusing to believe what we know, namely that we are blessed, happy, godly and perfectly okay. They could not happen except as a result of a miracle. Your Self is continually trying to tell you that you are beautiful, happy and have nothing to fear.”
The Myth of Unhappiness Volume 1, Bruce Di Marisco
Blessed is the wise old soul who watches the painters paint the waves, wise is the blessed soul who hears poets whisper from their graves…
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