Boundaries. Good fences, good neighbors. Build a wall. Because we need limits. Perspective. Scope.

And protection. From the world. From our tribe. From ourselves.

I have a boundary around food, or quantities thereof. Eating my feelings makes for a less healthy me.

Weekly, then, the gate on that fence swings wide. Giving myself the grace to eat whatever I’d like. Makes me more mindful on those days.

The scale will reflect, but then, if I make that choice, and different choices the other days, the scale marches on in that downward direction.

Then there are days when grace and excuses conflate. Converge. Conflict. And they sound the same in my head.

Except that the excuse offers a way to stay where I am. Grace shows me the way forward.

Not out. Never out. I’m here, wherever this is, this space that is mine in the universe. It’s not a prison, and my choice that it’s not.

But a way to move this space along. To progress. To grow.