Lately, I’ve been noticing hearts everywhere. Not the obvious kind, but the quiet, unexpected shapes that appear in the most ordinary places — in my kitchen, in nature. They feel like small whispers, inviting me back to what truly matters.
It began with a dried fig, its shape already holding a quiet little heart. Then an onion peel curling onto itself on the counter. Bread rising in the oven, its cracks opening in a way that felt almost intentional. Even a single cornflake, heart-shaped without trying. These moments don’t feel accidental to me. They feel like gentle reminders.
Hearts seem to appear everywhere — sometimes in the most ordinary or unexpected places, even in my cat’s litter. Out in nature, they’re just as present: a cloud drifting with a soft curve, leaves resting together on the forest floor, river rocks settling side by side. Hearts, quietly showing up everywhere I look.
And in times like these — when the world feels heavy, when fear, injustice, and uncertainty touch our communities — these small signs land differently. They remind me that love doesn’t need to be loud to be powerful. It lives in the everyday acts of care we choose again and again: sharing a meal, baking bread, checking in on a neighbor, standing together, simply staying human.
Love is steady. Persistent. It shows up quietly, inviting us to remain present rather than hardened. These hearts remind me to cook with intention, to slow down and really see, to hold space for what’s hurting — both within ourselves and around us.
This is the heart of Nourish Collective: nurturing through care, connecting as a quiet act of courage, and choosing tenderness when it would be easier to look away.
What about you? Have you noticed hearts lately — in your kitchen, on a walk, in an unexpected moment? I’d love to hear.
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