waves, winds, and what comes next
Change doesn’t knock—it kicks the door wide open, drags you outside, and dares you to dance in the rain.
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If there's one truth that stands unchallenged, it's that change never takes a day off.
It's the only thing that never quits.
Just like the seasons slip from one to the next, our lives are always shifting, reshaping, turning into something new.
For me, this wasn’t just a lesson—it was the core of my entire story.
The twist, the plot, the whole theme.
Change wasn’t some side note.
It was the headline.
Always was, always will be.
In Hamilton, Ontario, there’s this waterfall—Tiffany Falls.
Like a poem written by nature itself, it stands tall and magnificent.
Unmoving yet always flowing.
Through every high and low of my life, that waterfall stood firm, silently syncing to the beat of my soul.
One summer day, burdened by my past, I felt the need to go somewhere familiar to recharge. Somewhere that didn’t change.
I ended up there, standing in front of that waterfall.
Its steady roar, its endless crash against the rocks, felt like a soothing soundtrack to my chaos. The noise, the power—it cut through my loneliness, providing me with a brief break from the storm inside my head.
And as I stood there, toes on the edge of the falls, watching the water tear down those jagged cliffs, fierce yet graceful, I had a thought come to me.
This waterfall, the one that I always thought of as my constant, wasn’t constant at all.
It was a wild force, always shifting, always adapting, never the same.
My anchor in life was as unpredictable as the water crashing before me.
A living, breathing reminder that change is the only thing you can count on.
Each drop that plunged down had its own story. A blink, a splash, then it was gone, swallowed by the creek below.
The water that crashed against the rocks in one moment was not the same that did so in the next. It never stayed. Each moment brought something new, fresh, unknown.
What looked like the same old waterfall was really a constant cycle of transformation—proof that life never stays still.
The realization washed over me like the mist from the waterfall, its truth as refreshing as the cool spray against my face.
The waterfall wasn’t some steady symbol of forever.
It was chaos, dressed up as calm. Each drop was its own tiny rebellion, part of a bigger, ever-shifting picture. Standing there, with the spray on my skin, I suddenly got it.
The waterfall wasn’t permanent, and neither was I.
I wasn’t stuck, rooted, or some unchanging stone. I was part of the flow, moving with life’s current, caught up in its wild dance.
Always changing. Always going.
Watching the waterfall, it hit me—hard.
Life wasn’t a series of random events, unconnected and chaotic.
Nope.
Every piece, every chapter, was linked.
The struggles and the wins were all part of a bigger, ongoing story. My past, heavy with pain, my present, focused on healing, and my future, full of unknowns, were tied together like the unstoppable flow of water.
Just as the waterfall ceaselessly flowed, carving new paths, reshaping the landscape, my life, too, was an eternal flux, constantly evolving and reshaping my identity. The hard stuff I carried wasn’t holding me down. It was pushing me forward, shaping me into something new.
Every heartbreak, every trauma—it wasn’t just weight.
It was fuel.
To change. To adapt.
The waterfall’s endless motion, its refusal to stay the same, was a poignant metaphor for my life. Change was the only constant.
Standing there, the mist on my skin, I got it.
Finally.
Life’s not about resisting the flow.
Life is the flow.
It’s about leaning into it, letting it take you, knowing you’ll come out different.
Maybe better.
That realization felt like stepping out of a shell I didn’t know I’d been in.
A butterfly, with wings spread wide.
I wasn’t stuck in my past, doomed to repeat it. I was fluid, free to move, change, evolve. Like the waterfall, I wasn’t the same person from one moment to the next.
I was always shifting, always learning, always growing.
Standing there, at that edge, looking into the rushing water, I saw my own reflection.
But I didn’t see someone static.
I saw someone alive, in motion. Ready to flow with life’s current, ready to embrace change. No more fighting it. Just going with it, letting it reshape me, again and again.
I let it pull me under, let it spin me around, and I stopped trying to swim upstream. I got swept up, but this time, it was intentional.
Change wasn’t the enemy.
I was moving with it, not against it, letting it carry me, pushing and pulling like some wild, unpredictable dance. I wasn’t just floating along, either—I was in it, a part of the action, right in the thick of it.
What used to feel like chaos started looking more like opportunity. The noise became less about survival, more about learning to keep my balance.
Day after day, I got better at it.
And what once felt like waves crashing down just became the normal rhythm, something I could handle.
There’s an art to it, really.
This back-and-forth, this constant swing between highs and lows. It’s not always pretty. It’s not always easy. But there’s a weird beauty in the mess.
Joy and pain, strength and doubt, wins and losses—they’re all beats in the same song. And instead of trying to rewrite it, I leaned into it, let the pages turn on their own, one chapter at a time.
Life wasn’t a straight line.
Not even close. More like a river, winding and bending, sometimes smooth, sometimes smashing into rocks.
But the thing about rivers is they keep moving.
Forward, always. And so did I.
My story wasn’t written in stone; it was fluid, changing with each twist, each new wave.
All the fear, the worry, the endless questions—they weren’t massive obstacles.
They were just stepping stones.
They got smaller with time, becoming smoother, less threatening.
I stopped seeing them as barriers, and started recognizing them for what they were: part of the ride.
They shaped me, whether I liked it or not.
The crazy thing is, I stopped fearing the unknown.
The turbulence.
The times I’d lose control.
I started using it all, finding strength where I didn’t expect it.
I wasn’t just surviving; I was steering.
And that river, that constant flow of change—I wasn’t fighting it anymore.
I was part of it.
Flowing. Adapting. Moving forward.
And in that surrender, I found a strength I didn’t even know I had—a peace that came from knowing I didn’t need to stay the same.
Realizing change is everywhere was freedom in disguise. It snapped the chains of fear, kicked anxiety to the curb.
You know, the usual stress about the unknown—it was gone.
I didn’t need to predict every twist or turn anymore. Instead, I let go—no longer locked in fear but leaning into excitement for whatever came next.
With that, I quit trying to control everything.
I wasn’t gripping the steering wheel so hard anymore.
Suddenly, the present felt like... enough.
No more dragging around the baggage of the past or stressing over the future.
I just was.
Here.
Now.
Each breath, each beat—fully present.
This was the freedom that let me ride the waves of change instead of fighting them, shaping me into something stronger. Maybe even realer.
Change wasn’t just happening to me.
It was creating me.
A masterpiece, always in progress, getting molded and refined by the chaos of life. I was the clay, life was the potter, and I didn’t mind the messy hands.
With this mindset shift came something unexpected—awareness.
I started picking up on the tiny details.
The way the sky shifted from blue to orange at dusk. The rhythm of my heart as it slowed, then sped up.
My thoughts matured, my emotions evolved.
I stopped just existing, started really living in the flow of it all.
Change wasn’t some looming force anymore. It became a buddy, a mentor, the teacher I didn’t know I needed.
Welcoming it meant embracing the chaos, finding direction in the unpredictability.
I wasn’t chasing an end goal, I was savoring the ride.
The process of becoming—because that’s the whole point, right?
The journey, not the destination.
Even the tiniest shifts mattered.
They weren’t just background noise; they had weight.
Each ripple in the stream of life could throw me somewhere unexpected, push me toward something new.
I didn’t dread it anymore.
I was alive in the flow, in the messy, thrilling dance of transformation. That’s where I found myself. My real self—always changing, always growing.
My story is more than just some tale I tell.
It's a spark. A flare in the dark.
A push—reminding you change isn’t the monster under the bed.
It's the key to everything.
I want people to feel that fire, to get it.
To wake up to the fact that life is not just days ticking by.
Each moment is growth. A step up. A move forward.
We’re all part of this wild dance, whether we know it or not.
Every pulse, every thought, every laugh and tear—it’s all choreographed by the universe's wild card: change.
We don’t lead this dance. It pulls us in, keeps us moving.
And guess what?
It touches everything. You, me, the stars, the dirt beneath our feet.
All of it.
Every sunrise is a reminder. Every moonrise, a nudge.
Nature is out there, casually sharing that same truth, over and over.
Change is coming. Always.
The seasons show us. Flowers bloom, leaves fall. Time keeps turning, and we’re all stitched into this massive, ever-shifting story.
But you’re not just a spectator.
And my goal isn’t to lecture.
Your life isn’t some static, stuck-in-place thing. Nope. It’s fluid. You’re not trapped in some doomed fate.
Not at all.
You’re painting your own masterpiece. One stroke at a time.
Your past is not holding you back. It’s just the foundational layer.
And your future is not some far-off, unreachable star. It’s something you’re creating right now. With every choice, every breath, every daring move.
Change is not a storm to run from. It’s the wind you harness, propelling you further than you ever imagined.
It cuts new paths like a river.
It’s the flame that sharpens you, making you stronger.
It’s the chisel that turns a rough stone into a work of art.
Change pushes you to adapt, evolve, and, yes—become.
So, through my story, I’m not offering advice.
I’m holding up a mirror. A reflection of what’s possible.
Change isn’t just surviving the tough parts. It’s about grabbing the wave, riding it, letting it take you places you never thought you’d reach.
—Ryan Puusaari
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P.P.S. "Change isn’t the storm—it’s the wind that flips your sails, steering you toward the adventure you didn’t know you needed."
Healing Thoughts — A Journey of Reflection, Poetry, and Healing, Made Possible by You
Healing Thoughts isn’t just another book—it’s a living, breathing collection of reflections, inspiring quotes, and poetry, all pulled from the heart of this community.
Through the highs and lows, the moments of growth and vulnerability, your support made this book a reality.
Each page is a step toward healing, filled with wisdom, introspection, and emotional insight to guide you on your personal journey.
This book is more than just words—it’s our story.
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