The eye that flinches from death
sees only its own shadow.
Turn toward the edge:
every line sharpens,
and the wide sky enters the wound.
Once the body is reachable, the lens needs cleaning. These weeks confront the stories you’ve been calling truth and ask whether you have actually looked at your life, or only narrated it.
How often are you reacting to what’s happening now versus what you’ve learned to expect?