Ordinarily I go to the woods alone,
with not a single friend,
for they are all smilers and talkers
and therefore unsuitable.
I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree.
I have my ways of praying,
as you no doubt have yours.
Besides, when I am alone
I can become invisible.
I can sit on the top of a dune
as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned.
I can hear the almost unhearable sound of the roses singing.
If you have ever gone to the woods with me,
I must love you very much.
Focus on kind people. People who smile back. People who love animals. People who show up for you. People who have consistently cared for others and for you. There are still good people out there. We need to stop focusing so much on the ones that aren't. We need to let them go. We need to show up for those who love us, for those who love life, because they make life worth living. We need to focus less anxiously on our suffering and remember that there are still nice people out there, and we just need to reach out for them.
“She loves rambling alone in her woods. She loves going out by herself at night. She loves hiding from callers. She loves walking among her trees and musing.”
— Virginia Woolf, from The Death of the Moth and other Essays; “Madame de Sévigné,”
(via violentwavesofemotion)