May you forgive yourself.
May you treat guilt like a parasite.
May you bring shame into the sun and hang it up to dry, and when you come back to collect it may you find it dissolved and disappeared, carried away with dust motes and torn leaves.
May you learn how to lessen the load you carry without detaching from love.
When you don’t like yourself, may you find tenderness.
May you give yourself enough credit, for once.
When the future looms up and casts a shadow on your heart, may you see a small turtle or perhaps find a brilliant green patch of grass, or get a hug from a child or a piece of dark chocolate or some other comfort that brings your senses right here, right now, and holds you for a moment.
May you be able to tune out the questions, today.
May you offer the help you can, and accept the help you’re offered, and never bother to compare them.