“Patience is the highest form of strength.”
Softness is not weakness, it’s precision. It knows when to speak and when to wait.
To stay open in a world of reaction is a daily discipline, one that builds invisible muscles of compassion.
-Kerri-Elizabeth-
When tension rises today, breathe before you respond. Let the breath be your teacher of calm power.
Tomorrow, we gather everything learned this week and return it to light.
“
Sometimes love is the quiet allowing of someone else’s becoming.”
There is strength in giving space.
When we stop needing others to understand us right away, something softens, both in them and in us. The pause becomes sacred ground, a place where truth can breathe without being forced.
Small practice: Today, resist the urge to correct or explain. Listen instead. Notice how stillness opens room for peace to enter.
-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Tomorrow, we’ll listen in a different way, to the body that speaks when the mind is quiet.
“What is hidden is not gone, it waits to be revealed in time.”
The path along the cove disappeared beneath fallen leaves. Yet anyone who had walked it before knew it was still there. Hidden, yes. Erased, no.
October does this, it covers what is known, so that discovery can happen again. It invites patience, a slowing down, an awareness that not everything is meant to be seen all at once.
Walking the covered path became an act of trust. Each step pressed into leaves that whispered: truth cannot stay buried forever. It will rise when the season is right.
-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Tomorrow, the path will clear a little more, what will you see differently?
“Stillness is never empty, it is a pause before the next unveiling.”
The cove was hushed now. No boats cut across the water, no voices carried into the night. Only the hum of insects and the faint shift of branches filled the air. Waiting had its own weight, heavier than noise, heavier than storms. It pressed against the chest like a truth not yet spoken.
Every step across the lawn, every glance toward the shore felt watched, though no one was there. In waiting, even the air feels alive with questions. It isn’t silence that unsettles, it’s the sense that something is gathering just beyond it.
In waiting, silence leans to hear,
the trace of whispers drawing near.
The air is thick, the night is long,
the heart repeats a muted song.
What’s held at bay will one day break,
and shift the stillness in its wake.
-Kerri-Elizabeth-
And when the waiting finally ends, will it arrive softly, or split the silence wide open?
The waiting room is not a place,
it is a season.
A space where clocks seem broken,
where time moves at an almost still water pace
present, yet unmoving.
You sit. You breathe.
You listen to the hum of unseen decisions
being shuffled behind invisible doors.
Every paper shuffled feels like a wind in the trees,
rustling with answers
you are not yet meant to hear.
Waiting stretches you.
It teaches that surrender is not defeat,
but a kind of quiet strength.
A knowing that love can hold you steady
even when the outcome trembles.
Through the window,
you see clouds piling in the distance.
They are , layered,
behind them the sun keeps burning,
unmoved by delay.
And in the silence,
you remember:
the sun does not rush,
and yet it always arrives.
You whisper love into the air,
not asking it to return,
only asking it to travel,
to find who it needs to reach.
The waiting is heavy,
but the love is light enough to carry.
And not all doors open into light…
~Kerri-Elizabeth~
The silence is thick, the outcome unseen. Somewhere beyond the door, decisions stir. Tomorrow, absence itself will take its place at the table.
Some things don’t arrive when we call for them.
Answers. Apologies. Understanding.
Sometimes, even love itself can feel like it’s running on a different clock.
And when you’re the one waiting, it can ache.
When you’re the one needing, it can stir a deeper awareness—
a noticing of how timing shapes everything.
And when you’re the one who can’t respond yet,
it can bring a quiet tension you don’t yet know how to name.
We don’t all meet life at the same tempo.
Some of us move fast—urgent to solve, to connect, to resolve.
Others need time, silence, space to feel their way forward.
But what happens in the pause between one person’s need and the other’s delay?
A whisper sneaks in:
“They don’t care.”
“They’re avoiding me.”
“This always happens.”
Something quiet begins to sharpen beneath the surface—
not rage, not cruelty—just the subtle weight of unmet timing.
An edge forms. And it cuts without anyone meaning to.
This obstacle can teach.
And it can take away.
It can open us to compassion
or close us in resentment.
The question becomes:
How do we meet each other with honor
when we’re out of rhythm?
How do we stay kind when we’re tired of holding the silence?
How do we not make their timing mean something about our worth?
Not every pause is punishment.
Not every delay is disregard.
But the stories we’ve lived may whisper otherwise.
It’s not just a language barrier—it’s a life barrier.
Different nervous systems.
Different stories.
Different shapes of presence and processing.
But if we can pause—not to press, not to fix,
but to see the other in their timing—
maybe we create a space where no one is wrong.
Maybe we say:
“I’m feeling the weight of waiting. I just need you to know.”
Or:
“I don’t have the words yet, but your heart matters to me.”
And just like that, we step out of the battle,
and into the bridge.
A Rhythm We Haven’t Learned Yet
Sometimes,
I wait for you
like the moon waits for the tide—
knowing it will come,
but not knowing when.
Sometimes,
you need space
like a mountain needs mist—
not to disappear,
but to breathe.
We move like dancers
to different songs,
feet aching
when we try to lead each other
through rhythms we haven’t learned yet.
But what if this is the music?
What if the space between us
isn’t a problem to solve,
but a sacred silence
where trust
and truth
begin to rise?
So I’ll stay present—
not in pause,
but in practice.
Not waiting to live,
but living in love
while the dance finds its shape.
Whether we meet in step
or drift apart like waves—
I am still whole
and still here.
Breathing. Becoming.
With or without the answer.
-Kerri-Elizabeth-
What have you learned about your own rhythm—and how do you honor it while loving someone whose pace is different from yours?
Perseverance will offer you a choice and it doesn’t travel alone.
Leaning into perseverance and whispering ,”I’m here.”
Perseverance replying, “yes?”
My response, “Must there be more, can’t you read my mind?”
“Must I need clarity to explain why I’m whispering?”
“Dear whisperer, I may know exactly why you are whispering, but if you are interested in my services you must speak with clarity.”
“Clarity I say,”with an exhausting defensive stance.
Perseverance responds back, “ Dear whisperer, when you are ready to speak with clarity and request your desires, I will meet with you to create a plan of action, until then , my family and I have a full schedule.”
“Perseverance, are you a small family business?”
Perseverance responds, “ oh no , we are a world wide organization known for tiring out our clients, pushing them to their knees, financial challenging them, among an array of different types of battles we will toss your way to test your strength and endurance.”
Dear whisperer, “Only the ones that are willing to experience , sleepless nights, agitation, frustration, pain and vulnerability among emotions you haven’t even experienced yet, you must face your deepest truths, stand in the hottest and coldest temperatures and don’t shrink back.”
Dear whisperer, “when you request my services my company will test every limit you have and it will be up to you if you stay on board with us to get the results you’re looking for.”
Perseverance, “ your services sound like a war zone of chaos and destruction, I’d be crazy to invest in those requirements.”
Dear whisperer, “feel free to continue on with our referral to hope, desire, love, laughter, smiles and a positive attitude, they run together and their charges although similar still require our services for longevity.”
Perseverance, “what other options do you suggest so I can process this decision?”
Dear Whisperer, “ have you forgotten your continued investments into our company over your lifetime, the investment has earned you interest and are documented for your future records, you are welcome to use those investments as a down payment.”
Dear Perseverance, I respond with a bit of a defensive wise cracking voice and posture.
“I have investments I didn’t even make?”
“How’s that possible, who made those?”
“It wasn’t me, I’d never make an investment into such a chaotic plan.”
“Whispering”, perseverance answers, you’re investing right now, it’s in arguing rather than action, maybe that’s the statement you didn’t read.”
“That one does not yield high returns, but it does have persevering effects, check your statements for more details.”
“The statements will refer you carefully to your own documented evidence in your journals.”
“You do have them , right?”
~Kerri Elizabeth~
SONSHINE FOR YOU 