Have you ever died before? No really, I want to know. Because when the illusion of self is shattered, you simply cease to be. Though it may not seem that way to others, you know when it is true. You can feel it, a stranger in your own body, an imposter, and nothing is the same ever again. The beauty of being shattered is how the shards become our character and our marks of distinction. This is how we are refined by our pain. When the storm rips you to pieces, you get to decide how to put yourself back together again. The storm gives us the gift of our defining choices. The gift of letting go forever.
