It’s 8 minutes past the hour of 8 in the evening.
You might not see it, but life is messy, delicious, and real.
Today, I thought about hope. Purpose. Progress over perfection.
I met Zaheer, who shared a story so heavy it made my heart ache. He was abducted in Afghanistan, separated from his brother, tortured, displaced, and finally came to Germany seeking asylum. He could have been consumed by rage, yet he carries a heart that still sees the good, still hopes, still survives.
Life teaches us in three ways that no textbook can:
An empty pocket teaches gratitude.
A hungry stomach teaches care.
A broken heart teaches depth.
I’m reminded: sacred minimums matter. Drinking water. Clenching and unclenching my jaw. Pausing. Breathing. Small acts that save our sanity.
For Zaheer, for all the Zaheers and Zaharas, and for myself: we survive, we hope, we continue.
Close your eyes. Take three deep breaths with me. Let the small, grounding acts of your life anchor you.
You are seen. You are heard. You are enough.
