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I am an old soul. I love genuine kindness. I love compassion. I love poetry. I love soul connection. I love old books. I love deep conversations. I love depth. I love rawness.

When you finally learn that a person’s behavior has more to do with their own internal struggle than you, you learn grace.

Don’t tell a mother she looks tired; she already knows that. Tell her she’s doing a great job; she may not know that.

I am not impressed by money, status, or job title. I’m impressed by the way you treat other human beings.

You will never forget a person who came to you with a torch in the dark.

When a child can’t calm down they need connection and comfort, not criticism and control.

Sometimes we need someone to simply be there, not to fix anything or do anything in particular, but just to let us feel we are supported and cared about.

So many messages telling those who are struggling to reach out. Fair enough, but part of what depression does is mutes your ability to reach. If you are NOT depressed and you see someone struggling, YOU reach out. If you don’t see someone who used to be around, YOU reach out.

What does it mean to hold space for another person? It means that we are willing to walk alongside another person in whatever journey they’re on without judging them, making them feel inadequate, trying to fix them, or trying to impact the outcome. When we hold space for other people, we open our hearts, offer unconditional support, and let go of judgment and control.

You can’t heal the people you love. You can’t make choices for them. You can’t rescue them. You can promise that they won’t journey alone. You can loan them your map. But this trip is theirs.

Love will not save you. But it will hold your hand while you save yourself. And in a world that sometimes seems void of goodness, in a world that sometimes feels too heavy to bear, I think that is all we are really searching for. Someone by our side. Someone who grounds us. Someone who will quietly hug us for twenty minutes straight while we figure it all out. I think that is all anyone really needs. Someone who sees them. Someone who stays.

If you know someone who has lost a child, and you’re afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died—you’re not reminding them. They didn’t forget they died. What you’re reminding them of is that you remembered that they lived, and …that is a great gift.

Your greatest test will be how you handle people who mistreated you.

Empathy has no script. There is no right way or wrong way to do it. It’s simply listening, holding space, withholding judgment, emotionally connecting, and communicating that incredibly healing message of ‘You’re not alone.’

We need more people who are willing to say, ‘I’ve been there, and I’m here. You can always talk to me without judgment.’

People don’t always say I love you. Sometimes it sounds like: Be safe. Did you eat? Call me when you get home. I made you this.

The world is already so full of conflict. If we want to create more peace in the world, we have to choose not to take things personally and instead respond with understanding, compassion, connection, and peace.

It wasn’t the trauma that made you strong, kinder, and more compassionate. It’s how you handled it. That credit is yours.

At the end of the day, I’d rather be excluded for who I include than included for who I exclude.

Maybe your life purpose isn’t supposed to be a thrill-seeking narrative. What if you’re meant to be the sunshine to someone’s stormy day? Or the voice of clarity to a frantic mind? You don’t have to be a superhero to save the world.