The Sky That Holds Every Weather

you don't need to be consistent to be whole.

Some days, I feel like a coherent person.

Other days, I feel like a committee meeting behind held without an agenda.

There are days when I want to write a book, start a commune, and re-organize all my kitchen cabinets.

Other days, I want to disappear from the world and lie on the floor for 6 hours while the ceiling explains the nature of existence to me.

I used to think this meant something was wrong with me.

I used to think I needed to pick a lane.

Be consistent. Be reliable. Be one kind of person.

Especially in the context of activism, where urgency and clarity are prized, fragmentation felt like failure.

Like I was too much, too confused, too unstable to be of use.

the weather

But I no longer believe that consistency is the same thing as coherence.

Because here’s the truth: I am not one self. And neither are you.

We are seasons. We are weather systems. We are a moon that changes shape every night.

There are parts of me that want rest. Parts that want revolution. Parts that want to live off-grid with a goat named Clementine.

Parts that want to burn it all down and start over.

Some days are cloudless.

Some, full of thunder.

Some are a slow sifting fog that never quite lifts.

I have learned to stop trying to forecast myself.

Comments are open. If you’ve got something to say or want to share what stood out to you, I’d love to hear it.

the mosaic

For a long time, I tried to exile the inconvenient parts of myself. The rageful one. The avoidant one.

The one who never wants to text anyone back.

I thought maturity meant silencing them.

But they didn’t go away. They just went underground, where they tugged at me in other ways.

Through illness. Procrastination. Burnout.

What I’ve learned is this: wholeness doesn’t come from choosing one self and discarding the rest.

It comes from integration. From giving each part of ourselves a seat at the table.

From listening to what they want. From asking what they need.

From recognizing that even the parts that act out are usually trying to protect something tender.

Wholeness isn’t the mirror before it shattered. Wholeness is the mosaic made from the fragments.

It is not seamless. But it is beautiful. And it is real.

the moon

You are not a failure for feeling fragmented. You are not weak for being cyclical, complex, or full of contradictions.

If you feel scattered, inconsistent, or at war with yourself, know: there is room for all of you here.

There is wisdom in the multiplicity.

There is strength in learning how to lead your own inner council with care.

You don’t have to pick one version of yourself and discard the rest.

You can become the one who holds them all.

You can be the sky that welcomes every weather: the clear, the stormy, the still, the wild.

You can be the moon in all her phases.

You can be the mosaic.

I write for free, once or twice a week, but the real joy is hearing from readers. You’re always welcome to respond. Hit 'reply' or send me a message below.