Thank God for choices.
I choose to run because I have to run and sweating feels good. I choose to take that call from a woman who needs me, even when I’m suffering, because it feels good. I choose to let the dream go because holding on hurts too much and what is waiting for me on the other side of surrender feels good. I choose not to be swallowed by grief but rather serve, eat a bit of dark chocolate and have late night calls with a friend, because service and chocolate, a kind voice feels good.
I choose “No”. I choose “Enough”. I choose “Light” – “light” and capital “L” light. I choose to love you. I choose to love me more. I choose to let it break my heart. I choose to walk away – even when I don’t want to. I choose to let it crack me wide open to make space for the new.
I choose all of everything. I choose heat and sex and sweat and grit and grace. I choose to walk through shadows and light – I choose ease and I choose to never be easy. I was not brought here for easy. I am here for so much more.
I choose to stand firm in the Divine Knowledge that everything is okay. I choose compassion and empathy. I choose forgiveness. I choose to broaden my scope when it feels dark and remember the light of my Faith, my God, my children, my tribe, my work (my vocation and my servant’s heart), my deep love, my strong body, my belly laugh, my wildly open heart – where I am seen and well-loved and valuable – where there is so much love - from me to you and back.
I get to choose – I’ll choose all of this.
She loved him.
She loved him with a fierce, fierce love. For all of his light and all of his dark and lovely pieces, for the fire he lit in her body and for every glorious desire he helped her remember, that she felt in her breath and her bones, for his voice in the night and for every whisper I Love You.
And it was love, and it was a healing, and it was real – but despite her deepest desire to make it so
he just could not be near enough for her.
And so she pointed her dream in another direction because she knows that somewhere there is a love who speaks, like her, in poetry and stardust.
Who tastes like nectar and salt and home.
Who loves her urgently because she is luminous, because she burns down and rises up and holds captive the pulse of the world.
A love who will stand in the center of the fire with her and not shrink back.
Who is not afraid to touch her too deeply for fear of staining his hands on her light and who wants to be inside her darkest everything.
A love whose hands are big enough to hold all of her.
And that lover, when she finds him,
will see her,
and know her,
and want her --
just as she is and just as she should be.
And he will say,
Yes. Yes, you. I will go there with you. I have been waiting for this.
~ Inspired by RebelleSociety, Freda Kahlo, Oriah Mountain Dreamer, and Hungry Moon
Five of my favorite things: 1: beautiful aesthetic – think Italian linen, French laundry tables, three dozen sunset shades of peonies. . . / 2: the smell of my children’s heads / 3: gastronomy – the art of badass food / 4: earl grey tea with milk and honey / 5 : the Mediterranean Sea