263

pharaoh’s jail.

a blade does not belong in the forge. it belongs in battle.

pharaoh’s jail is not real. joseph does not belong in a cell in egypt or in the underground of the omelas. he belongs next to the king, understanding reality, interpreting dreams, reading the future. and the test is that you are going to sit in pharaoh’s jail until you remember it is not real and you know where you belong, even if you’re not there yet. until you know who you are, past all forgetting and remembering, even if a lie, a mere distortion, was enough to sentence decades of your life.

it is a temporary but hard test to be illegible and alone.

the lesson is this: “remember me to pharaoh” kept joseph stuck for even longer. putting your freedom, putting your recognition in the hands of those the system recognizes first, is not what saves you. it’s not what frees you. you free yourself, you recognize yourself, you surrender to the illusion, to the lesson, to the unfolding, and then what’s yours comes to you.

the exact puzzle, crisis, confoundment or obstacle that only you know how to transform, dismantle and reconstruct into the next reality—this is the key that turns the lock; this is the alchemy of exile.

262

not every creature.

there are plenty of creatures in the sea that cannot make a pearl. but there are the ones that do. where others become versed in camouflage, evolving into predator or prey, swimming alone and in great schools, there are those that sit quietly in the deep.

even if it takes all kinds, what does it even matter? it matters insofar as a grain of sand matters. if sand is just the ocean floor, fine. if it’s how the beach moves between your toes, fine. but when you’re an oyster, the grain of sand matters. random or not. all your effort goes into that reality. changing it until it changes you.

and no one knows. no one knows until the halves break open to reveal the pearl. the irritant that became jewelry. the pain that became purpose. the object of the deep sea diver or the culturist’s efforts. the story found you, you lived it, and now you can produce the treasure they seek.

261

house of God.

when we expand the definition of “the house of God,” then it doesn’t just make sense that temples and mosques and churches should be beautiful. that they should be honored because they consecrate where the divine meets the material, where prayers are made and answered.

this becomes true of the human body …unless you experience God as separate and outside of the body; that God is external to you.

this becomes true of the home, the dwelling place …unless you experience God to be somewhere else, outside your home.

this becomes true of the space that opens in every relationship, in every connection, no matter how brief, no matter how fleeting …unless you do not experience relationships as the place where the divinity in me meets the divinity in you, where divinity communes with itself in a prism of refracted light.

this becomes true of the workplace, no matter how humble, no matter how grand …unless you experience God as outside and separate from the places that only exist because of your handiwork, the fruits of your labor.

if the house of God is one place, then that’s the one place it makes sense to honor and bring beauty. if it’s every place, then everywhere gets to be as beautiful.

260

two-way glass.

do you know that you exist behind a two-way glass? that when people interact with you, it’s themselves they see and speak into? that your existence can reflect others back to themselves? i think you already knew.

i think you could begin to see the difference between the ones that like what they see and the ones that don’t. it would be easy to assume they’ve been responding to what they see in you. but that’s not often the case.

have you ever noticed people start to sound like they’re just talking to themselves about themselves? even if you haven’t left? that what they’re saying doesn’t really have anything to do with you anymore? it’s ok. it’s not anything you can really control.

that you show them something about themselves, an internal framework or perception or value system. that’s what they see and feel. you give them a view of the self, reflected. you get to witness how they see themselves (not how they see you) from behind this two-way mirror. even if you’re standing right there, in plain sight, concealing nothing, you’re protected by the glass.

ask yourself, “are they seeing me? or are they seeing themselves reflected?” the answer is sometimes lonely, sometimes not. you don’t have to be for everyone. but sometimes, without warning, the glass comes down. you find yourself there, with a person who sees you. and you see them, too. the interaction reveals itself as a shared frame, a shared reality. this is what a miracle feels like. when the mirror dissolves, you’re just two people. not talking past one another. not a pair of reflections. not a monologue in pantomime. it’s sacred. and it’s real.

259

the temptation.

there is a temptation to bleed out. to give it all away. why? because we want expansion to feel one way when half the time, expansion requires a contraction or constriction.

poverty logic is a common mindset because you only live once. but that’s why you learn to go without or you will how learn to take yourself back, to stop bleeding into the abyss, before expansion can manifest.

a full tank leaks out just the same as a quarter, if you don’t seal it. if you can’t hold a little bit without gambling it away. unknowingly trading your gold for copper will force a cognitive dissonance that what you bring buys nothing — when that’s not the distortion.

it’s that you’re still trying to make your home at the grocery store. the store stocks what it stocks. you’re trying to make your home at the office. the job is a job. you’re trying to make your home at the mall, where you can buy what you like but they don’t carry what you need. you’re trying to make your home at someone else’s house. when your home is at your own house.

258

watching the sky.

in the days before the flood came to wash away his reality, noah watched the sky.

he watched the sky as he walked through the woods. he watched the sky as he selected his trees. he watched the sky as he transported lumber. he watched the sky as he framed the ark. he watched the sky as he nailed down the planks. he watched the sky as he went about his work. he watched the sky as he chewed his food. he watched the sky as he inventoried which animals. he watched the sky after explaining to his family. he watched the sky even as the neighbors laughed.

he watched the sky as the seasons turned and regular rains fell. he watched the sky for years, already an old man when God spoke to him. he watched the sky turn from blue to white to gray. he watched the sky even as the earth remained dry. and as soon as he could feel the flood begin to arrive, he was ready.

he had been ready. probably since before he was born.

257

only one.

it only takes one. one person to say:

that harelip? i bet we can sew it together.

this disease? i bet we can turn illness against itself.

that outlier? i bet it’s pointing to the true mean.

this confusion? i bet it has intelligence.

that delay? i bet it’s by design.

this broadcast? i bet there’s a transmission hidden inside.

do you hear that noise? i bet there’s a signal trying to come through.

this pain? it’s probably optional.

it only takes one person to connect the dots. to understand that while today’s wounds may have been inevitable, tomorrow’s are not.

256

listen to yourself.

“listen to yourself” is not listening to the thoughts in your mind. it’s, listen to the truth in your body. identity lives in the body. identity builds the life, the current timeline, the curriculum that is completing. you cannot change your identity, your life or your timeline by changing your mind. things change when your identity changes.

how do you change at the level of identity? identity changes when the body can no longer carry it. when the new identity is ready. so the body will send signals that it’s about time. but if you’re not listening to your body because you don’t know how, or the world is too loud, or you’re habituated to overriding or numbing …then the signal gets louder and louder until it begins to manifest outside, because it’s not registering or you don’t know how to read signal from noise.

so then what? you feel the signal coming from inside or you wait for things to start breaking on the outside …and then what? change your mind and change your life? no. you change from your body. you start doing differently and living differently. you can think “different,” experimental hypothetical runaway thoughts all day but things won’t change until you change.

when you start showing up differently, identity begins to shift from the outside in, and your life will begin to shift from the inside out.

255

leaky vessel.

one day soon, hopefully, you’ll realize that you don’t need to convince, chase, explain, rescue, disarm, perform, play small, act tough, be heard, entertain, be more, be less, be the same, be different, make them laugh, kill them with kindness, do less, do more, smile more, be right, be wrong, stay useful, die on that hill, bleed out, sink with the ship, or give because you gave. you don’t have to endure your own life just to be safe.

you can walk away. why? because now you can see: it didn't work, the prize never came, it came and didn't feel like you thought it would, it didn't last, or you had to be the one to come up with it yourself anyway.

"the worst" has already happened. and still, you survived. you're here. your worst fears came true, slowly, over time. and you can see plainly now: you didn’t die. the facts don't match the hypothesis. you expanded the data set and it shifted the distribution. your data drifted. the mean shifted. something else clicks into place. and just like that, the vessel stops leaking.

254

protect it.

do you want to be free? well, you’re gonna have to stop giving it away for free. the thing you do reflexively. the thing you never run out of. the thing you use to feed everyone before you feed yourself. the thing that makes you available to others and unavailable to what’s yours.

this “thing” has a name. you have to be the one to name it, price it and protect it. and you know what? it’s all the same thing. “the thing” is your specific expression of the divine energy that flows through everything. …that thing. and maybe you’ll have to live for 40, 50, maybe even 65 years before you have enough lived experience to see, from the outside in (and inside out) what “that thing,” “your thing,” “what you are and who you are” even is.

i’ll give you a hint: it’s what the world gobbles up just as fast as you can plate it. it actually happens so quickly that it takes a lot of repetitions for you to actually be able to see what it is on the plate. and the good news is once you see it, you can’t unsee it. you cannot unknow it.

and you’ll realize: i am not the product. i am not the food on the plate. i am the one who plates it and that makes me the one who must protect it. the one who gets to price it, no longer the one that reflexively and warmly gives it out for free, just as soon as people start coming in with their empty plates and hungry mouths.

253

rising tide.

the fantasy of dry land breaks when the tide rushes in, lifting you off your feet and pushing you under, into the wave. you panic until you realize, “oh! i can swim.” tears merge with saltwater. fear and shock dissipate. reality is fluid, unfathomable, even as it holds you. this is how the body moves into new gravity. you leave behind fantasy: a shallow, sandy beach, eroding beneath your feet.

even if you don’t ever remember the moment of decision, of consent, reality still came for you. it crashed straight into you exactly when your capacity could match the energy that was always there, into what’s next.

the ocean had always been moving towards you. slowly at first, taking bits of sand, bits of the fantasy away, testing your feet and your knees and your legs, your foundation, early attachments to life on planet earth, your stance to what felt good and solid and real, to all the ways you learned to survive.

waves would come crashing in, you’d laugh and lose a bit of footing, and the tide would then rush back out. when you don’t retreat, when you keep going instead of changing your mind and working on your tan, the ocean will continue to draw you further, until one day, you’re halfway in, halfway out. that’s when the big wave comes, the one that carries you away from shore forever, away from every last bit of the old fantasy, and into the deep, into what’s real. where grains of sand become pearls and are no longer mistaken for safety.

252

seasonal menu.

when you learn how to feed yourself, you can stop fighting with the menu and arguing with the waiter.

it is not fast to learn how to cook.

this is ok.

the restaurant does not fail just because one customer wants it different.

the menu is limited to keep things simple.

not everything has to make sense to you.

there is no such thing as saving a lot of heartache or avoiding a lot of heartbreak.

lucky for you, a plank is much easier to remove than a splinter. put your tweezers down and enjoy the meal.

what do you think we were meant to do here anyway?

251

which reality?

you have to ask yourself, “what is my relationship to other people’s consciousness?”

am i trying to change it? is it expensive for me? do i subsidize it? what is my job there? does it give me permission to exist as i am? does it show me who i want to be? does it reveal my wounds? help me heal my wounds? am i seen? am i met? am i beautiful there? am i monstrous? am i conscripted into service? does my own consciousness have to shrink, perform or deny itself?

a person’s consciousness reflects the world they want to live in. do you want to live in a world where you’re always right and protected and held and provided for? a world where you are never wrong, you always know the answer, you’re never scared, you never have to be the one to protect or reciprocate, and where you are never excluded, ridiculed or misunderstood? that reality doesn’t exist. and if you want to live there, you will live there alone, apart from everyone you know and love.

and then your consciousness becomes a place where your fragility, your humanity, your vulnerabilities, your hopes and your dreams are centered. exclusively. your reality will automatically give everyone a job and assign everything a role. your consciousness becomes a closed system that charges a fee for entry and maintenance. it becomes a place where no other realities can exist. and you’ll know by how hard you defend it. you’ll know it is hostile to other realities by how threatened you feel when people, places and things come to challenge it.

maybe you’re charming and charismatic and generous, with only the best intentions for everyone involved, but if this is the system you’re running, the only reason people stay is they don’t mind the fee. it’s negligible or they prefer your reality over their own. that’s when the crown becomes heavy. because all of a sudden, everyone’s coming to your house because they don’t like their own house, and even if everything goes exactly the way you want because it’s your house, now you have a job. but don’t worry. people will leave as soon as your reality becomes too expensive to help you maintain.

250

the hard way.

if you are lucky, you will learn in a single lifetime that your soul is not held by your home. or body. or mind. or family. or partner. or spouse. or job. or career. or mentor. or community. or best friend. or circle of friends.

or things going the way you want.

not even by promises you make to yourself.

all of these can be broken.

even your hopes. even your dreams.

all of these can fail, falter and disappear.

you can be desperate but they will resist you.

you cannot insist. and bargaining won’t work.

this is what you might have to learn the hard way or even all at once (if you are lucky) and then it will be just you, alone, in the dark. finally available to the fact that

your soul is held by your breath.

that’s it.

+ all is one.

+ creation happens in the void.

+ love is what animates all of it.

+ you exist without permission.

249

more than before.

certain blessings come into your life so whole, complete and beautiful that all you want is exactly what came …and for it to never leave. it delivers you back into the body and gently into the present. all is well, even if not much else has changed; life is still life, but that’s how it heals you.

this is the power of a prayer finally answered. a prayer so ancient and threaded so deeply into the soul that it doesn’t need words. if you asked once, you probably asked 1,000 times, so you don’t ask anymore. the desire is present in every breath; the universe already knows. and if you’re lucky, eventually it comes, unannounced and unplanned. by the time your prayer has become nothing more than a distant ache, a limp no one notices, not even you, the blessing arrives like a fog that lifts suddenly and all at once, rendering life in prismatic technicolor for the very first time. all of a sudden, everything makes sense.

that’s why, when it has to leave, all that registers is betrayal on every possible level. and now you’re presented with a choice that somehow is not really a choice at all. because you made it this far. you had it for a little while. and it’s gone now, even if you can’t understand. you can’t pretend that you won’t go on. so you do. in spite of yourself. for an intolerable number of days, minutes, hours, until it dawns on you: had this blessing rooted too early, it would have capped your desire. you would have been happy (so happy) but you would have wanted only that, and nothing more. your only desire would have been that your blessing remain and that it remain with you. only when it leaves do you get to have everything. it’s only in the aftermath that you can want what you want (what you always wanted) and better, and more, and all the universe intends for you.

grief gives way to expanded desire and it clears a channel for more. confusion becomes art. loss becomes clarity. pain becomes hope becomes faith becomes devotion becomes more than you were before.

248

in the body.

hidden in the memories of every day you ever lived are the lifetimes that brought you here. that’s why it feels so heavy. continuity of self, the self that walked all the way to where you are now, is held as a frame. what’s too big for the mind finds its way into the body, where everything lives, at the level of identity. and when you realize that you are who you always ever were, you can feel every earned minute, every dollar, down to the cent.

you were allowed to finish what you needed to finish. now that you’ve arrived, unpacked and settled in, yes it’s quiet, yes it’s what you always wanted, and no, this is not how you thought it would feel. when the masks you wore to survive and the armor comes off, you’re just a person. skin and bones. meat on a stick. even if it’s for the first time (and it feels lighter and less) and it’s your own face looking back at you, it’s ok to not be impressed.

you come home to your farm, to your little plot of land, and you remember, “this is what i fought for.” the memory, the dream you carried inside you. and even if you aren’t as fearsome or dazzling in this sudden nakedness, the armor lives now under your skin. even with nothing left to keep you warm, even if you had to dissolve the illusions that let you sleep at night. you earned it. it’s yours.

the warrior makes himself over time. you wear the armor until it sinks into your skin. you go from heat and hammering to cold and still. the soul is forged. the gold you want must be formed, not mined. you will be the same but not unchanged. and that’s how you will carry yourself. as a weapon. trusted because it’s been tested.

247

unwinding the plot.

some of it will come just so you can learn how to let it go. some of it will make you wait until you lose all concept of time and identity. you go from “waiting a long time” to “have i been waiting all my life? who am i if it never comes?” to who you really are. the one who has everything. and then it shows up (or it doesn’t) but your own arrival is what matters.

life will give you enough time alone to understand the plot backward and forward, to live it from the inside and see it from the outside, as the person you’re now becoming. you will receive just enough illusion and confusion to close your eyes and feel what’s true. you’ll receive clarity and forgetting in equal measure. the sun will rise on your steps forward and set as you crawl your way home.

you will understand everyone’s story and carry their beliefs until you start living your own.

you will retrograde with the malefics and benefics in a journey that feels more “alone” than “together,” more “lost” than “found,” until you find more faith in the unknown than the known. that’s what happens. you receive to release. release to receive. and it goes on like this for no reason other than to pass the illusion of time and explore the limits of separation.

246

everything you want.

everything you want will be just out of reach; by design and as a function of time and fear. transcend time and transcend fear, and you will have everything you want.

when you are no longer afraid of what people say about you, what they think, how you make them feel, and how they treat you —because you’ve heard it all and suffered it all and still somehow survived— it’s just you and your desire. when you stop fearing the enormity and unlikelihood, afraid of the fact that what you want might not be so big or special at all, that you might just want what everyone seems to have access to except you, the door opens and you can finally let yourself have it.

when you remember that time is not real and the person you were from six, seven, eight, twenty-one to forty is still the same, you will see how easily and suddenly you can reach out and bring what you want into your reality, on a tuesday, without hesitation. why? because the only person standing in your way has now stepped aside. everything is easier for “future you” to do. why do you think we procrastinate? because it’s easier to assign all the hard stuff to a “different” version of you.

and once you collapse time in your mind, trusting the divine spark that has animated you since day 1, you see how time is running out … and you just do it. you go for what you want. and when the time is right, there is no resistance. you become the person who has the thing who was trying to tell it to you this whole time.

245

come to earth.

it’s so fun. you can laugh, cry, sing and dance. you can fall in and out of love. you can start a company and lose the company. you can play and pretend. you can get a job and then get fired. you can lay around, watch the world go by, run marathons, walk in the woods, hike and climb and strive and sweat. you can break and stretch. sail the oceans and follow the stars. stay and go and travel and rest. you can hurry, you can rush and you can wait. you can fight and hide, learn and resist. make friends and make enemies. soften and forget. harden and regret.

you can be afraid, you can be proud. you can eat first or you can eat last. you can ruin everyone else’s meal, if you wanted to. you can be the foot or you can be the neck. the hammer or the nail. put things together and break them apart. you can guard the gate. you can open the door. you can embarrass yourself. you can set yourself free.

change your mind and write a poem. have a favorite song. watch the moon rise and the sun set. you can drive and fly and scream and swim. you can be lonely, empty and full. you can hurt and heal. persevere and begin again. be humbled and lost. you can seek and be found.

you can decorate. eat snacks. cook dinner. love an animal. be clear, be confused, insist, miss the point entirely, and still forgive. you can grieve and you can give. you will die. and you can live.

244

this version of you.

take a moment to remember the version of you that prayed to be where you are now, to live as you do, and now you’re here. you are the miracle. a younger version prayed for you; she prayed for this. and now you exist.

even if things are still terrible, it’s what your soul called in to help you become the next version of yourself. a version you didn’t know how to pray for so your soul had to do it for you; a better life, a better you, is on its way. your soul leads you down the path and then you have to walk it to the other side, to what’s next.

life matches who you are. this version of you is not going to have a better life. when things get better, it will be enjoyed by the better version of you, not who you are now. so if you want things to change, you’ll have to change. and then you’ll have to watch the past fall away. it’s not easy and it’s not painless. life is its own tattoo. it will mark you. what’s inside will rise to the surface, for good and for bad.

do you feel like you’re dying? yes. let the old identity die so the new one can come online. are things falling apart? good. that means you chose yourself. keep doing that. what needs to fall apart, will. and if you don’t let it, if you stand in the way, you’ll be the one to fall apart. you’ll keep your current job and all your old relationships, with your friends and family and entire identity intact, and you’ll be what breaks. either way. stay and break. break for better.