You don't notice it at first.
But slowly, something changes.
The morning coffee stops being fuel
and starts being a ritual.
The silence stops being empty
and starts being full.
The ordinary moments —
the ones you used to rush through —
begin to feel sacred.
Not because the world changed.
Because you did.
Healing doesn't always arrive in dramatic moments.
Sometimes it arrives as the ability
to notice what was always there.
This week, notice one ordinary mercy.
Just one.
The warmth of light through a window.
The steadiness of your own breath.
The fact that you made it through another night.
And do not post it.
Some sacred things are only meant to be lived.