Love liberates. It doesn’t bind. Love says, ‘I love you. I love you if you’re in China. I love you if you’re across town. I love you if you’re in Harlem. I love you. I would like to be near you. I’d like to have your arms around me. I’d like to hear your voice in my ear. But that’s not possible now, so I love you. Go. – Maya Angelou
does it matter that you can feel the warmth of the sunlight on your shoulders, the salty sea breeze in your hair, and at the same time, see the storm clouds up ahead?
does it matter that the sea holds immense sadness in its depths, and yet at the same time reflects the joy of the sun in the glinting rhythm of waves?
do these things matter? do they have a place in business? in finance? amongst skyscrapers? alongside ships that carry cargo from one place to the next?
can someone say that it is okay to honor the new and mourn the lost all in the same moment? all in the same day. can someone shout this from the rooftops and whisper it in the shadows? instead of this. this silence. this, unspoken name. this covering up with words of new.
can someone tell the masses, “it is okay to not be okay on this day.” or even the next.
it is o.k.
it is okay.
it is ok to not live in the binary. in the ‘either or’ but to let things co-exist, mash, intertwine. mix.