We cannot hold on to what does not want to hold on to us.
We can only hold onto our own power and sovereignty.
We cannot hold on to what is not ours, if it doesn’t wish to be held.
We can only hold on to what is ours: our own beauty, magic, and power.
We are all related, we are all interconnected, we are all part of this vast universal tapestry,
but the threads are not stationary–they move in great multicolored ribbons, more like the Aurora Borealis than a tapestry: dancing and weaving in the sky, some of them together, and then apart.
We can’t force someone to love us, or forgive us, or see our point of view, or dance with us.
No one can force us to love them, or forgive them, or see their point of view, or dance with them.
Our ribbons move as we choose them to move, and sometimes our decisions lead them to touch,
and sometimes our decisions lead them to flow apart, and
is it useful to grieve the separation?
Do the ribbons of the Northern Lights grieve when the ribbons of the fiery dawn sends them to their beds?
Perhaps they do–
but they don’t fight tooth and nail to stay.
They know that there is a time and place for everything.
I grieve for the separations in my life,
for the widening of the spaces between,
and remind myself that one ribbon has flowed away
so that other ribbons may come closer.