La vie c'est epatant

cattink:

Find someone who pays attention. Who runs their fingers over your every scar; and asks where each one came from. Find someone who knows how you like your coffee; what song makes you want to roll the windows down and slam on the gas pedal. Find someone who takes in your smallest details; who notices the things you thought no one ever would. And then…when you find them… Be their someone, too.

I firmly believe in small gestures: pay for their coffee, hold the door for strangers, over tip, smile or try to be kind even when you don’t feel like it, pay compliments, chase the kid’s runaway ball down the sidewalk and throw it back to him, try to be larger than you are— particularly when it’s difficult. People do notice, people appreciate. I appreciate it when it’s done to (for) me. Small gestures can be an effort, or actually go against our grain (“I’m not a big one for paying compliments…”), but the irony is that almost every time you make them, you feel better about yourself.

I think a huge mistake we make is not allowing ourselves to feel. Whenever I’m driving in my car and a memory pops into my head that forms a lump in my throat my first instinct is to immediately shut it away. But I try to force myself to feel it, the loss. I let myself cry and slam my fists into the steering wheel because I know my mind needs my body. Sometimes the spaces in our head aren’t big enough for the pain we feel and it’s our bodies job to set it free.