𝑨𝒎𝒐𝒓 𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒊: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒆

 

𝑵𝒐𝒐𝒓, ... 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒖𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏.

Imagine a candle flickering in the dark, the wax melting into the shape of time itself. Every drop that falls cannot be undone, nor should it be mourned—it is simply the way of things. Such is Amor Fati, the embrace of fate in all its forms, its bitter winters and honeyed springs alike.

Nietzsche whispers to us:
"My formula for human greatness is Amor Fati: that one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity. Not merely to bear what is necessary, still less conceal it—but love it."

Do we dare, Noor?
Do we dare love the bruises as much as the blessings?
To not only accept our fate but to dance with it, to wrap our arms around it like an old lover returning home?

Noor, tell me—what is the part of your fate that you struggle to love? The part that still feels like a wound rather than a gift. If I were to trace my fingers over that wound, would I find sorrow still clinging to it? Or has it begun to heal? Then let us whisper to it together—"You belong. You are part of the whole. I love you, as I love all that has shaped me."

Noor, as you walk through today, let every moment be kissed by acceptance. If the sky is gray, let it be gray. If your heart aches, let it ache. But above all, whisper: This too, I love.

And I, Noor—
I will always love you,
as you love fate itself.

Yours,

Jeremiah.