Each one of us has its own roads to healing. We are all fractals of healing. These are the gifts from one of the sessions, where client shared what are their ways of accessing self resonant space.

“There is no substitute for human-to-human warmth, but we all have different roads to healing. If reading is giving you any aha moments or helping you feel compassion for yourself, you are creating new connections in your brain that support increased well-being.”
Sarah Peyton
Your Resonant Self p. 194
“ It was so good that at times she would tell herself: I must remember, I must record for myself, how good it is, in case things go wrong again. But she knew in her heart that it was as impossible to recall the good times during the bad, as it was to recall the bad during the good. One moved from one state to another helplessly, in forgetfulness, with merely a dry shadowy knowledge of the other, as unlike the real thing as a dried hard seed pod, a hard dry brittle box full of small black seeds of forgetfulness, is unlike the living flower. At times, during the flowering, one could hear the dry seeds rattle, ominously; moods, depressions, meaningless distortions of consciousness. This was why she persevered, and tried to make a conscious effort to control the process, remember the moments, to store them and preserve them, as though she could in some way carry them with her through the dark winter when it closed in; like  a talisman, a seed, a pledge of unimaginable spring. For how had the first sowers ever learnt to trust the wheat to survive the winter? On such acts of faith has human life been built. And if the spring were never to come again, she told herself, I must at least know that it has been.
The Realms of Gold by Margaret Drabble

The time will come 
when, with elation 
you will greet yourself arriving 
at your own door, in your own mirror 
and each will smile at the other’s welcome, 

and say, sit here. Eat. 
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart 
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you 

all your life, whom you ignored 
for another, who knows you by heart. 
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, 

the photographs, the desperate notes, 
peel your own image from the mirror. 
Sit. Feast on your life. 
Derek Walcott published in 1976

This picture was generated by the AI from the prompt “roads to healing through books reading and embrace of humanity”.