There’s a certain kind of urgency that creeps in when we feel like something has to work. A relationship, a job, a plan, a dream. We tighten our grip, thinking that if we just hold on tighter, push harder, or control it better—it won’t slip away. But I’ve come to realize that not everything is meant to be carried with force. Some things are only meant to be held with compassion.
To move with compassion, not force, means choosing understanding over urgency. Patience over pressure. It means giving something—or someone—room to breathe instead of boxing it in with our expectations.
And maybe that’s where the idea of permanence gets complicated.
We crave permanence. We want people to stay. We want moments to last. We want love to be enough. But permanence isn’t always physical—it’s emotional, spiritual, even symbolic. Some people are permanent in the way they shape us, even if they’re no longer beside us. Some places become permanent in our hearts because of who we were when we stood there. Some dreams remain permanent, even if they evolve.
So what if we stopped forcing things to stay the same just to keep them permanent?
What if permanence isn’t about holding on… but about how we hold something?
With kindness.
With gentleness.
With grace for the fact that everything we love exists in motion.
Force demands control. Compassion allows flow.
Whether it’s how we love others, how we talk to ourselves, or how we handle endings—we don’t need to fight to keep things from falling apart. We need to feel our way through them. With compassion. With softness. With the understanding that some things remain even after they change shape.
So if you’re in a season of unknowns, if you’re watching something you love evolve, or if you’re holding space for someone who can’t meet you where you are—let that be okay.
Move with compassion, not force.
Permanence will show up where it matters most.
