It was like waking up from a dream.

Except I hadn’t been sleeping.

I was awake.

I found myself in an argument.

I found myself already in it.

It wasn’t going well.

Despite my best efforts.

Not my best self.

My best pushes.

My points. My logic. My tone.

Nothing was landing.

Then I came to.

Not all the way.

Not enough to end it.

Enough to see I was trying

to use words to fix something

that was only asking for space.

A space for love to take hold.

That’s when I stopped talking.

I hadn’t given in.

I had given up.

It was time to align up.

I’d been trying to push

in a universe that prefers pull.

Trying to win.

To be right.

To be heard.

To be understood.

I’m still in it.

Haven’t mastered it.

Haven’t perfected it.

Haven’t outgrown it.

Still resisting the urge

to prove, to defend,

to drop one perfect sentence.

I am attempting to demonstrate

that truth doesn’t require more.

It doesn’t require more firepower. More positioning. More me.

It needs space.

To be seen, felt, to be lived.

On purpose.

My purpose is to make that demonstration.

However imperfectly.

With love.

Even when I’m frustrated.

Especially when I’m frustrated.

That’s what Intentional Demonstration

means to me.

Right now. Mid-argument.

There’s an opportunity to be the truth

instead of trying to deliver it.