🥄 The Spoon Who Couldn’t Anymore

The quiet ones hold the most.

 There was once a spoon.

Reliable. Polished. Always there.
Stirring soups, holding healing teas, balancing just the right dose of honey into someone else’s chaos.

It wasn’t flashy like the knife.
Didn’t slice through problems.
Wasn’t sharp.
But it held.

Until one day, it couldn’t.

It wasn’t dramatic.
The spoon just… laid there.
Next to a cup it didn’t feel like filling anymore.

No breakdown. No click. No clang.
Just stillness.

You see, spoons don’t scream.
They don’t post long rants.
They disappear into drawers quietly 
until someone goes, “Where’s that good spoon?”

It’s always the good spoon.
The one that bends just right.
The one that never scratched the bowl.
The one you trusted when you were sick.

That spoon held generations of exhaustion.
And the last thing it stirred was its own boundaries.

Today, I honor all the spoons who couldn't anymore.
The empaths. The Reflectors. The caregivers.
The ones who kept holding, even when they were hollowed out.

Sometimes the most spiritual act is not showing up.
Not stirring.
Not softening for someone else's comfort.

And as this post goes live, I’ll be somewhere in the clouds 
letting the spoons rest in my suitcase while I try not to carry the whole plane energetically.
Wish me luck. Or better yet…
wish the plane luck.

🌱 If you felt something in this post…

Know that your quiet growth is seen.
Your stillness matters.
And sometimes, even the smallest plant knows what the world forgets:
That survival itself is sacred.

📖 More writing + soft medicine every week

✨ If you’d like to explore more reflections, soul whispers, or cosmic comedy:

📚 My books:
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🌀 Wander through my world of reflections:
https://hingslotus.carrd.co

🎬 Watch the Reflector in motion – cosmic skits, truths, and spiritual satire:
YouTube: @hingslotus

🌕 Until next time —
🕯️ With gentleness,
~ HingsLotus 🌸