We would prefer all gain and no loss in life, yet that would gain us nothing more than great loss.

Loss is an invitation to a journey of unparalleled growth, yet we seldom RSVP the invitation.

Today’s ashes are tomorrow’s soil.

We lose the understanding that death always begets life of some sort, and that life is always an opportunist, persistently standing ready to build something out of the smoldering ashes and raise something up out of the tangled carnage.

We can’t even remotely fathom that whatever is ending for us is always more than an ending.

The greatest loss lies in our inability to accept loss.

Maybe the thing that we’re losing is the very thing that has caused us to lose everything else in the first place.

In the oddity or maybe the miracle of life, the roots of something new frequently lie in the decaying husks of something old.

There’s something of a restorative quality about spring, where something whispers wild rumors of new beginnings arising from the seemingly dead seeds in our lives. There’s something almost cruel about it all, as if there might be some sort of truth about a new life actually being possible. Yet, maybe it is true.