No title is required. It is what it is...

Alright, beloved lean in a little closer. Let me tell you a story you can pass down over a kitchen table, the kind that stays with you long after the dishes are done. A story your grandmother would’ve told after she made sure you were listening.

There was a woman once who tended a small piece of land with steady hands and a quiet pride. She knew the rhythm of her soil, the way you know your own breath. She knew when to water, when to wait, when to let the sun do its work. Folks thought her harvest came easy.

It didn’t.

Folks thought she was lucky.

She wasn’t.

She just paid attention.

One season, things started growing in her field that she didn’t recognize. Small at first. Quiet. Nothing that looked like trouble. She noticed, but life was busy, and she told herself it wasn’t worth the fuss.

That’s how bitterness sneaks in. It never knocks. It just settles. It drinks from the same well as love. It grows under the same sun as joy. And if you’re not watching, it’ll convince you it belongs.

Those bitter seeds grew into weeds that drank the same water as her good crops. Stretched their roots under everything she cared about.

And one tired evening hungry, worn down, and not thinking straight she tasted what they produced.

They were bitter and that’s when the lower self stepped in.

Not evil. Just hurt, disappointed and overlooked.

See, inside that woman lived two farmers.

One was her higher self the part of her that knew better, trusted life, moved with patience and wisdom.

The other lived deeper, closer to old wounds. That one carried fear, resentment, and memories that never got a proper tending. And when ignored, that farmer scattered seeds too.

Bitterness was one of those seeds

But why do you call it bitterness? Wasn’t she just hurt? Disappointed? In pain?

Yes ...at first.

Hurt is the sting. That’s the seed landing in the soil.

Pain is what happens when the hurt stays. That’s the seed cracking open, sending out its first roots.

Disappointment comes when hope doesn’t get met. That’s the stem bending under the weight of expectation.

Resentment is when none of that gets spoken or soothed. That’s the roots spreading underground, quiet but determined.

Bitterness?

Bitterness is when all of it sits too long without tending.

It’s pain that stopped moving.

It’s hurt that dried out and turned sharp.

It’s resentment that’s been watered just enough to survive, but not enough to heal.

Bitterness isn’t where the story starts.

It’s where it ends up if nobody comes back to the field.

That’s what happened to her.

She didn’t wake up mean.

She didn’t choose hardness.

She just kept eating fruit she should’ve pulled up sooner. And as a result, her words changed. Her spirit felt heavy. She snapped when she meant to soothe. Pulled away when she wanted closeness. She stopped giving, pleasing, explaining, she stopped reacting and detached...

Then her higher self...feeling left out in the cold...started knocking, saying, let me back in something’s off.

Winter came, and with it, stillness. The kind that forces you to listen. She walked her field slowly, tending and paying more attention not just to the land outside, but the one inside too.

She saw the weeds clearly this time. Some came from other people...folks who flung their pain around because they didn’t know what else to do with it. Folks who consciously and subconsciously planted seeds of discord, chaos, torment, jealousy, rejection, confusion and hurt.

But majority of those weeds came from her lower self the wounded farmer inside her who had been planting out of hurt, survival and fear.

And here’s the wisdom part...

She didn’t shame that lower self.

She sat with her.

Listened.

Told her, I see you now.

Together, higher and lower, they pulled the weeds. Not angrily. Not rushed. Right down to the root. Where the stories lived. Where the habits hid. Where the pain and disappointment had been watered.

Then they chose new seed.

Patience. Boundaries. Self-trust. Rest. Forgiveness. Love. Empathy. Grace. Presence.

And they planted with wisdom and intention, not guilt or haste.

By spring, the field felt whole again. Not perfect. Whole. The harvest tasted sweet because it came from alignment, not force.

And the woman learned what every wise soul eventually does...

The lower self isn’t the enemy.

It’s the child left alone in the field.

Ignore it, and it plants weeds.

Tend it, and it becomes your helper.

Your higher self knows the way but it needs your presence to lead.

So when bitterness shows up, don’t panic. Dont even judge it. Don’t punish yourself or others.

Just check in and ask, Which farmer’s been working this land? The answer will be revealed in the fruit...the taste, smell, sight, sound and feel of the fruit.

Then step back into your power. Your higher self... the F.A.R.M.E.R. (Frequency. Alignment. Reality. Manifestation. Energy. Reprogramming)

Because this heart of yours?

It’s sacred ground and soil.

And when both farmers work together,

nothing poisonous, toxic and misaligned can stay rooted for long.

Concept from the book Step Up to the Plate of Life: Living in Full Excellence; available for investment on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and my website.