Being Allowed to Be (A Quiet Kind of Alchemy)

Last night felt like a quiet gift.

Not loud.  

Not dramatic.  

Just real.

I spent time with new friends, the kind of people who don’t rush you, don’t size you up, don’t ask you to be shinier or smaller or better behaved. The kind who simply open the door and say, come in.

They love animals in the purest way. They take in strays, not to train them, not to fix them, not to make them perform or behave for approval. They feed them. Keep them warm. Let them rest. Let them be exactly who they are.

And something in my body softened when I noticed that.

Because that’s how I felt there too.

Like I didn’t need to impress.  

Like I didn’t need to explain.  

Like I didn’t need to earn my place.

I felt safe.  

I felt welcome.  

I felt… allowed.

Almost like being one of the cats.  

Accepted without conditions.  

No expectations.  

No agenda.

What an extraordinary gift.

For a long time in my life, connection came with effort.  

Belonging was something to earn.  

Kindness often carried conditions, spoken or unspoken.

So when kindness arrives now, uncomplicated, unhurried, without demand m, I notice it. I let it soak into every pore of my being! 

Not because it’s rare in the world,  

But because it’s relatively new in my world.

This is something I’ve come to understand gently:  

we don’t recognize safety until we no longer live inside survival.

And when we do, simple kindness feels like silver.  

Like gold.  

Like proof that something inside us has changed.

This isn’t longing.  

It isn’t fantasy.  

It isn’t hunger.

It’s discernment.

It’s finally calm enough to say,  

Oh. This is what ease feels like.

We don’t talk enough about good friends. The kind who choose you. Not once, but again and again. The ones who stay engaged. Who remain curious. Who don’t disappear when life gets quiet or ordinary.

Friends who see your quirks and smile.  

Who cheer you on without envy.  

Who wish you well without needing anything back.  

Who stay when others quietly slip away.

Friends really are the family we get to choose.

We talked about work, About school. About family. About weather and seasons, football and vacation dreams and everyday life. Nothing fancy, yet, Everything meaningful.

And I left feeling full.

Not because something big happened,  

but because something true did.

This is living.

Connection without pressure.  

Sharing without performance.  

Laughter that feels easy.  

Presence that feels safe.  

Love that doesn’t ask you to be anything other than who you are.

This is the quiet alchemy of being human.

Where contrast becomes clarity.  

Where old wounds refine perception.  

Where what once hurt teaches us how to recognize what heals.

Sometimes healing doesn’t arrive as a breakthrough or a revelation.

Sometimes it arrives quietly, 

in someone’s home,  

in kind company,  

in the simple knowing that you are safe to simply be.

And last night, that was more than enough.

Cheers to new friends!