“Here, buried in a little earth, lies one who held the world in fear, one who held peace and war in his hands. Oh, you that go in search of things deserving praise, if you would praise the worthiest, then let your journey end here nor trouble to go further.”
[grabs your shirt] listen. listen to me. the practical is holy. the everyday is sacred. the simple act of surviving is divine. do you get it? sanctity begins at home, in the hands that build and the lives we live and the deaths we die and the worms that eat our bodies. if making something by hand is not worthy of veneration then nothing is.
Oooh, I needed this reminder and I bet someone else does too
