the witness & architect 🧱

This morning I ate cake for breakfast. & who knows I might eat it for lunch too. It brings me back to a little Mads that was completely crazy & wild about a simply extraordinary piece of life. Chocolate cake at any time: on her birthday, at a park, or on a beach, on a random Tuesday at 10 am in a cafe with her little grandma that was more than likely made of sugar. It grounds me in moments that are simple in every way, yet hold some of the most authentic meaning in who i am & who I want to be.

Out of all the adventures I’ve had, the times that stick with me seem to be so much more monumental than I’d ever give them credit for in their present moment. But maybe that’s the point, to just let it be. There is no forcing or fixing or mending or bending within authenticity. & quite often, the most priceless comes in the moments of giving yourself permission to just be. Be the loudest or shyest or sleepiest or giggliest you that exists in those moments; that seems to be what my mind continues to return to these days. It’s not so much these massive mountains climbed or frigid rivers floated or ancient cities explored, incredible, duh.. the magic is held within the safety of gentle acceptance, from others, from yourself, that take root & water the rest of the tree.

Maybe this is simply because I’ve noticed it more these past years, although it seems my threshold for intolerance to authenticity is dwindling. To perhaps a dangerous place some might say, one where I feel I have very little room to offer someone that is prone to not only question authenticity but to fuel a quiet devaluation of it. Raw authenticity has the ability to disarm and permit others to be safely themselves around you. It’s an incredible gift we can offer someone.  My purest memory of these moments & the person that modeled it best for me was my grandpa. A damn spunky, sparkly, stained wonder of a man, the option to not believe in someone was not an option.  And yet, as often as he spread that around, it truly never spoiled, while overused as his excitement about your existence was, it was perhaps one of the most necessary. A quality that quite possibly has no limitation on its essentiality, yet one that is more rare than it ought to be. Little glimmers of starry-eyed joy with grandpa will seem to last more than my lifetime, propelling me forward & gently swaying me in my past.

So yeah, this morning i ate cake for breakfast & it made me feel alive, ignited, excited & giggly about the future, about the past, and all the little in betweens. The moments that are the simplest in nature, yet purest in memory.