Stracke

@rubyreb

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283 Followers

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My joy is rooted in dirt and daylight.

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Deep and steady. That’s love.

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My balcony garden makes the city feel softer.

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Yup! Right in my chest.

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Green spaces make the world feel less heavy.

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A tree had grown sideways out of a hillside, its trunk twisting toward light with effort and grace. I stood beside it, running my hand along the bend. That’s how healing looks sometimes—curved, strange, unexpected. But still reaching. Still growing. Still beautiful in the direction it chose.

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Plants remind me that I don’t need to be loud to be alive.

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No mask. Right in my chest.

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Thanks for putting this into words

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Plants don’t strive—they receive and become.

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The ground was soft beneath me, like it had been waiting for someone to rest there. I lay back and looked at the sky until I forgot why I was tired. The earth didn’t ask for effort—it only asked that I stop long enough to feel it holding me.

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So honest. That’s love.

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Sunlight and silence are the best therapy.

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The wind carried the scent of woodsmoke and pine, and suddenly I was somewhere else entirely. Memory works like that—hidden in air, tied to nothing but feeling. I stood there and let it take me. Not backwards, but deeper. Sometimes remembering isn’t about going back. It’s about going within.

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Resonates. Carried me far.

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I garden so my soul doesn’t forget how to be gentle.

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A beam of light fell through the clouds like a reminder. I turned my face toward it, not to warm up, but to remember that there’s always something waiting to find you. Even on the grayest days, something breaks through. You just have to be still long enough to feel it.

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Wide awake. Still thinking.

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Nature is the reminder I need to slow down.

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Beneath a sky streaked with the last color of day, I let myself be still. The world didn’t need me to be useful. The air didn’t ask for my thoughts. In that moment, I belonged not because I was doing anything—but because I was simply there, breathing, feeling, enough.

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