The Whole World

June 11

The whole world belongs to you.

Not just everything the light touches, but everything the light thinks about. Every corner of space it’s ever seen, or dreamed, or scribbled down on the corner of a vision board.

Every drop of rain is yours. Hurtling towards earth at the speed of gravity to meet up with it’s friends, pooling and puddling it’s way to the nearest stream, running downriver towards the biggest raindrop party ever known, ready to do it all again.

A million blades of grass and a million blades more are yours, presenting arms to the sky daily, playing freeze tag with the wind, the grass on every side always greener, taking on the seasons year after year like one long wave of photosynthesis. 

Even the rocks are yours—those glorious bastards. They read scripts that span millions of years with one single, glorious line of dialogue, falling their way to shatter stage right.

All of nature, rejoicing in the way that it is, simply because it is how it is. 

And when you realize that it lacks nothing—that you lack nothing—well, then the whole world belongs to you.

Morning Reading is a daily email to help center yourself, reflect, and prepare for the day. It’s sent with love from your friend, Zach in Austin, Texas. He even drew the logo himself.

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