You were made to break.

To be imperfect, intentionally reckless,

you were made to break.

And thank God,

because I want you to imagine a world where you never cracked.

Imagine a world where you never had to pick yourself up and put yourself back

together. How truly tragic that would be. Why? Well, it's in the tearing down and building

up that we sculpt the beauty, that we chisel away the monotony and create a meaning of sorts.

Like muscles at the gym, stressed, taxed, intentionally put through the rigors of resistance,

micro tears that teach it, ah, I can not only endure, but I can strengthen.

That by challenging the status quo, I get a tomorrow that promises more than today.

So break.

Allow yourself to crack.

In fact, there's a saying that it's from our cracks that the light shines through,

that meaningful things more often than not were born of broken things, that it wasn't being

sheltered from life but thrust upon it that the true magic materialized.

It took me years to learn this.

And it is, I've been surprised to discover,

something that must be relearned every day.

My mind resists and my body fights back.

It doesn't want me to be broken.

My head wants to navigate away from broken things because broken is flawed, right?

...