James hillman
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Anxiety is often a quiet storm—howling inside, while the world sees only a wince or trembling. It’s the rumble beneath the surface, the fluttering heart that won’t slow down, the thoughts that loop like birds trapped in a room. For many, it arrives unannounced, shapeshifting every day: dread in the morning, tightness in the chest
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There’s a broom in the corner of the psyche. It’s not shiny. Not magical. Just a broom. The kind you might overlook. The kind that waits in silence for someone to notice the dust. That’s how the sacred art of psychotherapy begins — not with a breakthrough, not with insight, but with the slow, almost
The Spirit’s Janitor 