It doesn’t matter whom I want to help, or heal, or fix, or love, if I can’t do it for my self.
This divine journey walks with us amongst the vast orchard of endless abundance, yet we cannot sincerely hope to satisfy our vanity by picking that which is unripe, yet we arrogantly (or perhaps innocently) try anyway and wonder why bitterness ensues.
Everything in its time and place, with flow, ease, and grace.
A terrible notion, perhaps, in a moment of apparent need, but a truth, nonetheless.
The pain, the resistance, the tension is the teacher, yet it may not be as obvious as the switch.
Love is the gentle monster that won’t let you alone, ever, as it IS you, in entirety, and holds space into infinity without any concern for trivialities and time.
Listen harder, it says. Feel more deeply, it says. Be daring, be willing, be wondrous and be open now and again to recognize that it’s only a perception that makes it seem like life’s a tightrope in the clouds, anchored to fantasy.
Birds can fly because they never question it. How often do we sever our extraordinary abilities and aspirations and heart murmurings and lifelong passions because we’re taught not only to question everything, but to be cynical about it.
We could all use a good dose of be-easier-on-yourself.
You are loved.