You and me both! Isn’t it interesting that it sticks? The confusion or the recognition that we’re not where the rest are in the understanding of things.
This piece feels like a slow exhale — intimate, careful, and honest about the distance between appearance and truth. The imagery of glass and light is beautiful, but what stayed with me was the emotional precision: the way glitter becomes a stand-in for longing, protection, and sometimes self-deception.
There’s a quiet bravery in naming how easily we’re taught to mistake shine for safety, polish for wholeness. I love how this doesn’t judge that instinct — it understands it. It acknowledges how often we reach for what sparkles not out of vanity, but out of hope, or survival, or the simple desire to be held by something warm for a moment.
What makes this resonate is its restraint. You let the reader sit with the discomfort of realizing that beauty can coexist with emptiness — and that recognizing that doesn’t diminish the beauty, it deepens it. This feels less like a warning and more like an invitation: to look closer, to feel more honestly, and to choose substance without losing wonder.
Thank you for sharing so deeply life's gifts for stirring the heart ❤️
Stirring the heart is what we’re after. Thank you, Treacy!
Arc of life
hope and hope tarnished by time and human vagaries.
Moving , hopeful and heartbreaking but in a way that moves forward
Thank you, TS
The full catastrophe, we can choose to savor it all. Grateful for your heart openings.
The full catastrophe - I like how that sounds.
OMG, I remember that scene from Like Water For Chocolate. I was too young to understand it.
You and me both! Isn’t it interesting that it sticks? The confusion or the recognition that we’re not where the rest are in the understanding of things.
Thank you for being here.
This piece feels like a slow exhale — intimate, careful, and honest about the distance between appearance and truth. The imagery of glass and light is beautiful, but what stayed with me was the emotional precision: the way glitter becomes a stand-in for longing, protection, and sometimes self-deception.
There’s a quiet bravery in naming how easily we’re taught to mistake shine for safety, polish for wholeness. I love how this doesn’t judge that instinct — it understands it. It acknowledges how often we reach for what sparkles not out of vanity, but out of hope, or survival, or the simple desire to be held by something warm for a moment.
What makes this resonate is its restraint. You let the reader sit with the discomfort of realizing that beauty can coexist with emptiness — and that recognizing that doesn’t diminish the beauty, it deepens it. This feels less like a warning and more like an invitation: to look closer, to feel more honestly, and to choose substance without losing wonder.