She woke up one dayand decided she mattered.On this very day,she chose to love herself.She bent her ear to thestill, small seed within herrather than the voices whopromised a plan for her life.Her fingers reached deepinto cosmic starry pocketsand took hold of the medicinethat belonged to her.She tossedthis unique sprinkle of balmwherever she went —and before long,a garden grewall around her.Flowers of ideaskept arising.Tell me,what could she do other thancut flowers and share themwith friends? Nowadays,she returns and tendsto the spiral love within her.She regularly catchessight of the gardenerwho whispers her name and speaks,“Keep going. I am with you.”She does…