Breathe Everything Will Be Ok Quotes

This is the fifty-seventh message. Fifty seven days. I’m sitting here staring out at the Gulf, like I used to do with you. Nothing is the same without you here. I can’t even go near the bar in my kitchen. Remembering what we did there is too difficult. Everything reminds me of you. If I could hear your voice tonight, Harlow, if I could just hear you tell me you’re OK . . . I would be better. I would be able to take a deep breath. Then I’d beg. I would beg you to love me. I would beg you to forgive me.

If you had one last breath - what would you say? If you had one hour to use your limbs before you would lose the use of them forever - would you sit there on the coach? If you knew that you wouldn't see tomorrow who would you make amends with? If you knew you had only an hour left on this earth - what would be so pressing that you just had to do it, say it, or see it? Well there is something that I can guarantee - that one day you will have one day, one hour and one breath left. Just make sure that before that day that you have said, done and experienced everything that you dream of doing now. Do it now - that is what today is for. So pick up the phone and call an old friend that you have fallen out of touch with. Get out and run a mile and use your body and sweat. Seek out someone in your life to say your sorry to. Seek someone In your life that you need to thank. Seek someone in your life that you need to express your feelings of love to. Then when that day comes you will be ok with it all.

OK?’ Eliot simply asks. ‘Fine.’ ‘Good. Only thing for it,’ he says, ‘hold on and hope for the best.’ ‘And that’s dancing, is it?’ ‘Well, yeah,’ says Eliot, then he leans in and says into my ear, breath tickling my neck, ‘And everything else, too, Emmie Blue.

Being with Nell knocks my head back, makes my bones thrum, my blood ring and boil up until we are reaching, grabbing, smothering each other. And skin to skin our aching bodies press to find a way in - and I mean pressing, pressing, pressing. And there's teeth brawling, hands clutching, as we pour our way into each other until everything stops, gives way to soft kisses. quiet breaths of friendship, and I say, 'Are you OK?' and actually fucking mean it.

If you see her Tell her we’re ok Tell her she’s everything I am She’s everything I say If you see her Tell her I’ll make her proud Tell her I’m no longer lost I’m no longer under a cloud If you see her Tell her she’s still mine Tell her I’ll love her forever And one day we’ll be better than fine If you see her Tell her that even though we are apart Tell her I love her so And that she is still my heart

Take a look in the mirror. Who are you today? Discover yourself anew. Don’t assume you are the same person you were last week or last year. Don’t limit yourself with your history. Look at your partner with new eyes each day as well. Who is this person? Rediscover him. Don’t assume he is the same person that you were with last week or last year. Don’t jail him with your judgments or his past. You cannot control how your partner shows up. What you can control, however, is how you show up in relationship to him. Rather than a stale repetition of the good old days we all fight so hard to re-create, be open to the newness in each moment and give your relationship a chance to breathe. Trying hard to keep a relationship together is a classic sign that it’s falling apart. Don’t pretend everything is OK when it’s not or gloss over problems in order to save face. Welcome challenges and speak your truth. Every so-called problem is an opportunity in disguise for you to expand and express new levels of your irresistibility.

Your pain needs space. Room to unfold. I think this is why we seek out natural landscapes that are larger than us. Not just in grief, but often in grief. The expanding horizon line, the sense of limitless space, a landscape wide and deep and vast enough to hold what is—we need those places. Sometimes grief like yours cannot be held by the universe itself. True. Sometimes grief needs more than an endless galaxy. Maybe your pain could wrap around the axle of the universe several times. Only the stars are large enough to take it on. With enough room to breathe, to expand, to be itself, pain softens. No longer confined and cramped, it can stop thrashing at the bars of its cage, can stop defending itself against its right to exist. There isn’t anything you need to do with your pain. Nothing you need to do about your pain. It simply is. Give it your attention, your care. Find ways to let it stretch out, let it exist. Tend to yourself inside it. That’s so different from trying to get yourself out of it. The way to come to pain is with open eyes, and an open heart, committed to bearing witness to your own broken place. It won’t fix anything. And it changes everything.

One thing I'm sure, you can't tell about love, or the lack of it, except from the outside, from the way two people look at each other, from the things they do. It's like the way you can tell about a house, about the people in it, whether they're happy, from the way it looks from the street: A small pot of marigolds, a couple of chairs in the shade, tells you pretty much everything you need to know. I could tell what they had. I could tell by the way he'd wrapped her up in that big coat of his that day in the rain, like he was a magician who could make them both disappear, by the way she'd walk next to him, or look at him when he talked to other people, that look saying, "This man is mine and I like how he is -- how he moves, how he laughs -- and he knows it and it's the two of us from here on, for everything." It was easy, unforced -- walking down the hall, she'd touch his elbow with a finger and he'd turn like a ship; she'd sigh and he'd look up. Sometimes at lunch, or in the library, you'd catch them looking at each other, a kind of calm in their eyes like after a smile, or before it, and know they were talking. She loved him -- what more is there to say? There were times I'd look at them and feel something in my chest and throat, an ache that made it harder to breathe, but I was OK with it. I can say that now. I was OK with it. I didn't know it then, but I loved them both. Who's to say which one of them more? It was the pot of flowers, the chair in the shade. . . .

Logan pokes his head into the room. Everything ok? I nod. My mom said my presence is requested at a party tomorrow. I raise an eyebrow at him. Any chance you could go with me? He pulls his head back, his chin pushing toward his chest as he looks down at me. What kind of party? The really fancy kind. His gaze shoots toward his closet, and I can already see him trying to plan. My mom said she would send clothes for both of us. I hold my breath waiting for his response. I need clothes too. Is it important to you? Is it? No. It’s important to my father. I have to go. And if you don’t go, I’ll be stuck with Trip all night. I can see the look in his eyes when it’s settled. I’m going. You don’t have to. I’m going.

Fab.” Suddenly I’m not so sure of myself. “Is it ok if I call you that?” She drags a breath deep into her lungs and tilts her head up, shining eyes almost a navy blue in the lighting backstage. “Yes, Bastian.” “Good, because I plan on using that name every day for the rest of our lives. Fab, I’m so sorry. For everything I did back in high school. And for not chasing after you. I should have fought for you. I thought that hockey was the only thing I needed in my life, but I was wrong. All I could think of during the game was you. Up here on stage. I needed to be here with you. That last goal I scored. It was for you. So I could show up for you, like you’ve shown up for me so many times. And from now on, every goal I score is for you. Every win is for you. Every day is for you. I will dedicate every single hour to convincing you I’m never going to leave you again. Never going to hurt you.” Her cheeks are soft under my hands. “If you’ll let me.” A few stray tears chase each other down her beautiful face. Is she trying to find the words to let me down easy? I lean in to whisper in her ear. “Well?” “Well, what?” “Don’t leave me hanging here. I love you.” “What? Oh.” She laughs through the tears. “I love you too. I think I always have.” “Thank fuck.

This is exactly the bike that I wanted. It's the perfect present. But there are other things that I wished for even harder than I did for this bike, and I know I won't get them, no matter what. Important things, like wishing that Lolo wasn't sick and that everything could stay the same. Then again, staying the same means that Tia Ines might not have the chance to love Simon. It means Roli wouldn't go to college and get even smarter. It means that I wouldn't group up at all. Staying the same could be just as sad as Lolo changing. I don't know what is going to happen next year, no one does. But that's OK. I can handle it, I decide. It's just a harder gear, and I am ready. All I have to do is take a deep breath and ride.

what if today i breathe easy here in my skin, and exhale, unafraid, trusting that there is a destiny-kissed grace saving me from any cruel wind that may blow back. i could stand a little stronger in my space… knowing that it’s universe-given and me-shaped. maybe i'll even glow a little here, be a little wider-winged and brighter-lighted. let myself consider that everything i am and all that i want to be is ok. and maybe not just ok… but what if i am perfectly on purpose. and what if i can trust that every next step is the one i'm meant to take and that even when i feel wayward, i'm still always on my destiny-blessed way.

Start with curiosity and a space for the child to speak: ‘Are you OK? I thought it would be better to talk away from everything. I was wondering what was up.’ ■ Accept where we are: ‘I asked to speak to you because I noticed you were struggling to keep to our rules.’ ■ Signal where we are going: ‘This is just a pause – I want to get you back in and working.’ ■ Reset expectations: ‘We have agreed that “safe” is one of our rules. I need you to …’ ■ Offer help: ‘What do you need most right now to help you get back to learning?’ or just: ‘How can I help now?’ ■ Plan to go back in: ‘OK, breathe. We need to “go again”.’ Or ‘When I/we/you go back in, I’m going to make it easy for you to walk back in/move desk/save face.

on forced forgiveness… not everything finds peace through forgiveness. it just doesn’t. and trying to force something you don’t authentically feel can not only keep you from healing, but it can also be a reinjury to your spirit. sometimes you just feel it in you, how forgiveness is asking too much of you, and it’s not because you’re holding on, it’s because sometimes the burden of that shift, that closure, that resolution, it isn’t your work. it’s the other person’s energy to move, and you cannot move energy for others. with those things, let it be ok that all they ask of you is to breathe through and release.

Stoicism suggests that one should try to maintain the following balance: an awareness that the things we are worried about could and very likely might happen – that life will contain moments of tragedy and sharp turns – and that we should be prepared for these moments, both mentally and practically, in any way we can. However, equally important is recognizing that many of these sorts of catastrophic moments, can’t be known nor controlled nor predicted and thus, after a point, worrying has none. Once one has done everything that is rationally and realistically preventative, they should work to revert their attention back to the present, leaving all additional concern about the future, for the future. Awareness and rational preparation have value to the future at low cost to the present. But worrying about what one cannot know nor control of the future has no value to either and comes at the cost of the present. Following the Stoic way of thinking to potentially help counter this unnecessary anxiety and bring our attention and enjoyment back to the present, we can remind ourselves that in the future, things might not be ok, but if they might not be, then they are now. Or at least better than the future version we are worried about. If we are worried that things will only get worse, then things are as good as they’ll ever be right now. And how foolish it would be to ruin what might be ok now out of concern of things potentially not being so later if one cannot know or do anything further to prevent it? And better yet, if one is wrong about what they’re fearful, then things will only get better. And there is even less reason to worry. Moreover, we tend to assume the worst. We tend to worry not only about things going wrong but the worst cases of things going wrong, paired with a sense that in the face of such cases, we would be broken and ruined, beyond repair. However, how often is this actually true? Stoic philosopher Seneca wrote, “We are more often frightened than hurt, and we suffer more from imagination than from reality.” Epictetus similarly wrote, “Man is not worried by real problems so much as by his imagined anxieties about real problems.” In all likeliness, there is someone somewhere right now living some version of a seemingly worst-case scenario for many of us, living with no phone, computer, TV, and a great many other things, unaware of this video and perhaps a huge portion of the happenings of the world. And he or she is likely just as happy or unhappy as many of us right now. We are adaptable creatures, wired to adjust our worries to our circumstances, as well as our abilities to remain ok in the face of them. And it is perhaps of great use to consider and meditate on this idea frequently and with confidence. That even if some version of nearly worst-case, we would likely still be some form of ok. The ingredients of your being that have gotten you where you are, that have given you what you’ve experienced, will still remain. To paraphrase Roman statesman, and philosopher Cicero, while one still breathes, one still has hope. At least in some form.