Philosophy: Every Moment is Spoken For

In today’s post; Every Moment is Spoken For: Philosophy. I ponder on those microseconds we fill with noise. Do we do this to avoid our truth? How can we want to throw away time like a candy wrapper that falls from our fingertips?

Philosophy and Me

I seek to understand the deeper meaning. It starts every morning. She started it this morning, walking into my bedroom asking if she can go to school earlier than what she normally does. Six-thirty am. I think, what could she do for an hour before the school bell rings at seven forty am.

Time is a capsule and what’s inside of it, must, must, have value.

I remember being fifteen. I remember the trouble I could find myself in, if I didn’t have parents who remembered what it’s like at fifteen. Shapeshifters. Game changers. Trying to find ourselves, our character. Yet, we really didn’t know what we wanted, we just wanted to try everything. The adventure of it all. Even if it was wrong or harmful for us.


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We are human philosophy in moments.

Every moment is spoken for. I read that sentence in the New York BestSellers Book “Girl in Pieces” by Kathleen Glasgow. I bought the book for her because she reminded me of the girl in the book.

There were so many pieces of her. Every moment counted for. God, how I know how she felt. We had become a part of each other through those painful moments.

All those little cuts, me, all that drinking. The tears that were held in that capsule of time. Sometimes we’d cry so much that our became dry- there were no more.

Self-Help Resources & Books

We’d start everyday like the other- numb.

They say time heals. Time does heal if one can recognize that their journey needs change. I felt this heavy weight upon my soul, and I saw it in her as well.

We needed a new direction. A new path. A new chapter. I didn’t want for us to remain bitter, angry, and lost. We had to find purpose in breathing, in every day life.

There’s safety in recognizing, in admitting that you need help. I was struggling at being strong for both of us. It’s the day the time capsule shattered. The day of awakening. A phone call and doctor’s appointments, therapy sessions. Practicing to breathe for the first time again. I remember my birth, my first breath.

And I cried like a baby girl coming into the world again. She cried too. These were tears of release. We found many more…

How Speaking From the Heart Heals


Practice is like a new bloom

always reaching upward for the warmth of the sun. We reach on a day-to-day basis. We talk in tones of love, softness, and understanding. When we feel those moments when history wants to drown us. We remind each other of that perilous mountain we had climbed.

We sit on the mountaintop, embracing one another smiling. Knowing the journey will never be easy, yet, recognizing that in awareness of the conflicts we might face. That we are strong in our purpose.

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