195

safekeeping.

not everything i have in this moment belongs to me. some of it i am holding in trust; i have it now but only for safekeeping. i know what’s mine hasn’t always been with me, and much of it is still on its way. someone else kept it safe for me until the time was right that it should come home, where it belongs.

this is why we must be gentle as we tend our belongings. we must love what’s in our life now. because we don’t know how long it stays with us, and we want to send it on its way in good condition, if not better than we found it.

have you ever received someone or something and ached for how rough or how poorly it was handled? it’s not nice; though we can do our best to rehabilitate old leather, dry wood and bruised hearts. there are ways for that. healing can be art.

a lot of us pass through this life, worse for the wear. but it doesn’t always have to be this way. we can be careful. we can be kind. we can be honored guests, custodians and stewards. we can let compassion take root. it sometimes requires a bit of slower living. but what were we rushing towards, anyway?

194

feeling as fabric.

imagine your feelings as the finest silk organza, passing through the corridor of your soul. the wind carries it in, and now what? because it’s become caught and snagged. you just so happen to have these rusted nails, screws without heads, other rough timber and splintered wood that catch on the fabric. it can’t move through you until after you’ve found what’s sharp, and removed or hammered it in. once you’ve smoothed over that patch of drywall and sat with the torn fabric, lifeless on the ground, the wind will pick up again to carry this feeling up and out of your system.

and one day, after you’ve cleared a bit more, someone will show you the salt that sits in their wounds. they’ll give you their map of ancient hurts and humble progress. you will be touched by the beauty of their cartography and they’ll feel how deeply you can love them, if only they’d let you. you are a mirror to how brightly their soul shines in darkness.

together, you’ll create an estuary where their saltwater flows into your freshwater, and you’ll find yourselves in the present, unmasked. these moments don’t last long; they endure in resonance, in this frequency that changes both of you. and that’s the gift: how your private experiences changed and were reflected in the other.

this is the alchemy. and it’s no small thing.

193

here to do.

if you’re a fire, burn bright. if you’re a lamp, shine your light. if you are water, nourish your earth. air must explore its world. even if no one sees. even if there’s no company for the journey. even if your gift is too much, too soon.

if you’re a seed, allow yourself to be planted. bloom if you’re a flower. ripen if you’re a fruit. reach for the sky if you’re a tree. even if no one waters you. even if no one picks you. even if you wither on the vine. even if you are felled by the wind.

if you are a builder, you build. over and over. even if it all comes down. if you are a runner, you must go the distance. you must hit your top speed. even if they try to stop you. even if the finish line is nowhere in sight. if you are a soldier, you must fight. if you are a dancer, you dance. stage or no stage. partnered or not. in silence, if you have to. if you have a story, let it be told. even only for yourself.

why? because the only thing for you to do is to be. who you are and what you do is an invitation that no one has to accept. it’s not for them. you are an expression of the divine, which is whole and complete and exists for its own sake. for its own pleasure. remember that. and remember, too, if you are love, then you must love.

192

this life, sun, moon and sky.

the moon doesn’t care if the waves are coming or going. she knows it’s her energy that pulls the tides. reflecting light, as her movements mirror the emotions of life. the moon flows. she doesn’t worry about you. she just loves you forever.

the sun doesn’t care if he’s burning you or blinding you. the sun shines for himself, containing and creating life. he doesn’t worry about you. the sun is fire, along with his faraway brothers, glittering as beacons in the night.

people talk a lot about redemption in the afterlife. but it can happen now. redemption is available inside the life you’re living. and when you choose this moment to release any false delays, you erase the illusion of time. yesterday isn’t real anymore, so you can forgive it. you can forgive them and you can forgive yourself. the future is a construct that hasn’t landed for you yet. you can turn the page and give yourself a real tomorrow.

clouds are how thoughts hold emotion; drops of water suspended in the wind, giving color to our days. and as the clouds tend to obscure our celestial guides, there’s a gentle relief in not always having to know where we are or where we’re going. clouds are of the moment. always shifting. as are you, if you’ll allow it.

191

depends on the day.

depending on the day, you will be shown what’s good. you’ll be ready for it and all of it will be for the good.

you’ll be shown your beauty, in case you forgot. or if you hadn’t ever seen it before. you’ll be shown the hidden pipes that still leak, when you’re ready to get under the house and fix them. you’ll find the opening to the rabbit hole beyond the rabbit hole when you’re ready to venture further. you’ll be shown all the ways you are still trying to beg, borrow and steal when you’re ready to become your own medicine. you’ll find the termites in the timber when you’re ready to stop eating yourself alive. you will see there is no pestilence or disease in the world that must not first be healed in you. the call is always coming from inside.

how can any of this be good, you might ask? because when you clean it, you can claim it. it can belong to you. and the more you can belong to yourself, the less often you’ll find yourself at the street corner, giving it away for free. trying to trade your silver dollar for 15 cents—just to feed the meter.

190

my bandages.

do you like my bandages? i made them myself. from outfits i don’t wear anymore. i have learned to dress my own wounds. i’ve learned the timing; they need to be covered and they need to breathe. but only i know the when and how. my wounds want washing and sometimes a bit of ointment. there’s a heat that emanates as they alchemize. sometimes this itches, sometimes it swells. it’s not great.

but i’ve learned to tend to me. i don’t need you to bring me your scraps. i have plenty of fabric. and when these bandages become soaked and soiled, they go straight into the compost. i don’t reuse them. they turn into something else. just as i do.

and when the new, pink vulnerable skin finally begins to close, that’s just for me. i’m still not ready to be out and about. the deeper layers need to grow in for the dermis to complete. i’m not going outside just for this baby skin to get sunburned and scar even before new me has had a look around.

it’s interesting how the world remakes itself as i do. because when my skin heals, so does my vision. so does my heart. and it becomes easier to live in proper reverence for what all we are really doing here.

189

protect me.

when i protect you from my negativity, i remind myself that i’m safe. and that’s how i keep you safe. when you protect me from your negativity, you remind yourself that you’re strong. that’s how you keep me safe. when i can keep my side of the street clean, i avoid junking up your view, you have the freedom to sweep your side as you see fit, and together, we keep the neighborhood property values high.

when i tend to the younger selves that still live with me, you don’t have to hear the screaming from these little ones who would happily burn down the entire house just to see you come running. when you tend to all the pets and plants you’ve taken in, i don’t have to worry that you’ve turned your life into an emergency room hospital zoo. we each retain the privacy we need to do God’s work: that which has been assigned to us and is ours alone.

sometimes, the winds blow a little too strong and i have to bring my entire house down to the studs. i’m allowed to start over when i’m ready to rebuild. and you’re happy for me that i get to live in a house that remakes itself; that every whenever, i get to be brand-new, without shame for what i outgrew.

188

to be rescued.

do you wish to be rescued? we all do, but sometimes the desire gets extra loud, extra distracting and uncomfortable. pushing its way to the front of your mind, to the center of your awareness. you can hear the words clearly and distinctly. but what’s important is not the content of the wish. it’s not the who/what. no. it’s finding the part of you that’s signaling to “save our ship.” you gotta find her and bring her home.

she’ll keep yelling out for what she wants and it will hurt. follow the pain. follow the sound of her sobbing; her tantrum, the hollering, the meltdown. know that it’s not about delivering what this younger part of you is crying out for. she doesn’t know what she wants. she is calling out for what she thinks she wants. but that’s not it.

she just wants you. you are the rescue. it’s time. you’re ready. keep walking and you’ll find her. don’t stop for a drink. set aside what you were doing. don’t distract yourself rescuing someone else or solving other people’s problems. don’t cover your ears. she won’t cry herself to sleep this time.

just find her, find the wound, wash it out, stop the bleeding. hold her and understand her until she stops crying.

187

in your own lap.

do you know what sitting in your own lap looks like? it looks like you were the one that had to understand the adults (and their motives) from when you were small. that it was their game and their rules for you to learn. they didn’t have to understand you; you were the one that had to figure it out. you had to hear their trauma and sort the dirty laundry even as this burned a new and different trauma in you.

and even if it didn’t, even if it simply awakened the karma you yourself had packed for lunch, it still hurt. of course it did. it hurt that their feelings mattered more than yours. it hurt that you would always know more about them and their stories than they would ever know about you, for you.

you learned how to be the big spoon. so you went around looking for little spoons. because you knew what it was like to always be holding and never held. you would never want the people you (would come to) love experience that—so help you God. and of course that’s not what they wanted. so it was lonely. there wasn’t ever anyone’s lap you could crawl into. maybe for a second, sometimes? but they’d immediately want to switch and you just didn’t have the heart to say “no.” it would not have been possible. because that’s not your heart.

either way, what you noticed was that not a lot of people wanted to stay in your arms for too long, anyway. so you got good at it. knowing that all days have a number, you held people when they came, with all your might. you learned to make every house a home, even the worst ones. but let me tell you that one day, you will find yourself home, alone, somewhere beautiful. somehow having built a little life that feels a lot like the lap you always wanted.

186

the nicest people.

do you ever wonder why it was always the nicest people that hurt you? how it was always the nicest people with the best intentions that stood firmly in your way? blocking your dreams. denying your requests. even after you had filled the forms and performed the requisite supplication? they were always putting others ahead. telling you they wished for better but just couldn’t; because they wouldn’t. and both of you knew.

it was always the nicest men and women (God-fearing, gentle parents, the kind you’d want as neighbors) who ended up treating you like a threat, an aberration, requiring the corrective hand. going out of their way to make an example of you, instead of quietly offering you the benefit of the doubt or constructive reframe. they needed to demonstrate the integrity of the system they served. making sure to document the case and protect others from the harm you posed, to prevent cheating; that you might never be in danger of receiving more than your due.

you felt that. and it was also not allowed to make them the enemy. you had to believe alongside them that the enemy was you. they always said the beatings would continue until morale improved. and they got away with it. fair or not. they didn’t have to change. you did. you had a lesson to learn where they had a lesson to deliver.

and that’s because it was God asking them to. the universe entrusted delivery of this lifegiving curriculum to the nicest people in the world for a reason.

you’ll notice, too, that not everyone needed to be shown the Source. not everyone needs the truth. but let me give it to you here for free; hard-won, and now i’m giving it away: everything you ever wanted that’s been denied you was never going to come from them. what’s yours is yours and it comes from God, flowing through what’s around you or found deep within. that’s it. so bless them and thank them for being so nice. because they were always telling you the truth.

185

it will come.

the day you realize absolutely nothing is within your control. that you are at the complete mercy of God. the day it finally and fully lands that the divine has a path for you. you’ll know it as you walk it, not a moment in advance. and it could be leading nowhere. how would you know? you’ll just have to believe in your own pot of gold. that it’s in you to be revealed by you.

and here’s the thing. people assume the day that brings you to your knees would be one of great loss, pain, suffering or tragedy. it might be. but it might have also been the loveliest, lightest, most unexpected day. where all you had to do was be you. to be instead of do. for once. no role but your own. and this will kill the ego faster than anything.

because for many of us, complete light and mercy will feel even sharper than what has for decades ached for relief, fulfillment, rest or release. because at least there was always something you could do about “what was wrong.” a problem is always thirsting for a solution. and even if it’s not you that solves it, there’s plenty to distract ourselves in the meantime. so much numbing and running and strategizing to fill the mind. lots of gossip and analysis.

but your own goodness? where all you have to do is receive it and believe it? that crumples the ego in a way you won’t expect. and that’s the day everything changes. it creates a wormhole to the present moment, to where you always were; it’s just that you can perceive its true texture now.

184

the show.

either the adult puts on a show or the child puts on a show. but someone is always having to put on a show. because life is hard. and we all need a show of love, a show of “everything is going to be fine,” a show of “i see you” and “you’re doing such a good job. i am so proud of you.” it’s such an important show.

but sometimes the show is, “i’m being good, i promise.” “you don’t have to worry about me.” “i will be perfect for you and make you proud; i understand that you’re too busy for the real me.” “i can help you. see me making myself less of a burden?” “i know better than to add to your problems. i’m sorry for getting it wrong.”

someone is always taking care of someone, and this is a beautiful thing. because it helps you recognize the few instances the “taking care of” is mutual and complete.

until then, others will come along, teaching you how to receive “being taken care of” without your having to perform for it. the first time will be like a revelation. but know that it is you who is being revealed, not them. they love you but they don’t show you everything; because with all their love, what they are doing is giving you the show.

and this is how the entire story of your life blesses you.

183

the whole thing.

the whole thing is your soul’s curriculum in love. do you run from it? chase it? trust it? reserve it for some and not others? do you deserve it after you earn it? or do you deserve it because you exist? now, what about everyone else? you love them now or do you love them later, after they’ve apologized? after they’ve done enough to make you happy?

what were you told? first, they lie to you. then you believe the lie; you entertain doubt. and then you tell the truth to yourself. this is the process God allows.

because God doesn’t love you after you’ve made everyone in your life happy. God loves you now. God isn’t waiting to connect with some improved, future version of you. you’re connected now; always have been. and disconnection from others, love withheld by others — that’s just the illusion, the curriculum you asked for, delivered faithfully (even if delivered unconsciously) by other souls in the same school as you.

maybe you’ve not signed up for all the same classes, but we find each other in the playground and that’s where these things happen: betrayal, abandonment, pain and rejection. gifts that remind us: if you ever find yourself looking to the left and looking to the right with no friends by your side, look above and look within. you’ll find that to be alone is to be held in very good company, if you’ll have it.

182

built for connection.

do you know why you crave connection so badly? connection is what shatters the primary illusion of separation that blinds the collective consciousness. we suffer from this illusion of separation from one another, from what we desire, what we reach for, from ourselves, from the past and from the future. separation from God is an illusion. connection is what fills the gaps, the fractures that cement the holy energetic mosaic that surrounds us and comprises all that we are.

trust and surrender are the only way out. trusting that we chose this. surrendering to the game.

trust and surrender are the only way in. trusting and surrendering to the divinity within and without. trusting and surrendering to the noise, chaos, pain, silence, to the process and to the joy that is available in every moment.

when we remember that disconnection, separation, waiting, delay, rejection and cruelty are the exact illusions we needed to break the body consciousness —so that we might finally begin to access the eternal unity consciousness of the soul— we lower our tolerance for the numbing, distractions and palliatives we ever used to dim, contort and compromise what we came here to do.

181

coffee grounds and banana peels.

the thing you think you want that you forget is actually already inside you? you will eat it out of the trash until you remember.

because God won’t ever lie to you. the universe will not give you the thing if you’re still confused about it.

love will not come to you until you remember it inside. abundance will not manifest until you remember that you are a direct channel for Source energy. good health will elude you until you understand the extent to which you must bless and heal yourself. belonging will not extend its hand until you learn to belong to yourself. no one will choose you until you remember that you are already chosen by God and held in divine love, that each day is an opportunity for you to choose yourself. you will not experience validation until you remember that you do not need the external to reflect your worth, that you exist even without a mirror to provide visual confirmation. safety and stability will not land until after you learn to protect and hold yourself as your own container. you have to take care of you before anyone else can.

whatever you’re struggling with will keep happening until you understand. it’s not about breaking a cycle or pattern by doing something new; it’s about remembering what’s always been true about you.

180

playing small.

baby girl, do you ever resent that they keep asking you to play small? do you ever feel the sting? like salt in the wound? that’s because it is. if you walk into the ocean whole, you can swim in the energy without it getting under your skin. and there’s really no nice way to be micromanaged, to have the heel of a tyrant on your neck.

so remember this: God himself is divinity playing small under each of these human masks. every single one of us is already the infinite “playing small,” enjoying a little game called “humanity.” but it’s human nature to forget, to imagine this earth as the center of the universe, to grasp, to be fearful, to resist the fact that the emperor has no clothes.

there’s just too much at stake. it’s actually very scary, and a painful process, to remember our own magnitude. it requires so much; all the (false) constructs that perpetuate the lies must be set aflame and reduced to ash. no one else can do this for you. and that’s why no one does it.

so next time they ask you to play small, oblige them. but oblige them the way God does: generously. because there’s really no other way for it to happen. everyone and everything is temporary. remember that it’s a dance and not a battle. and you won’t see it this way until you can open your own eyes to how sorely you have always had them outmatched.

179

all colors.

men as boys are taught that the only two crayons they can use, the two types of feelings society will tolerate from them, are sexuality and anger. women as girls, by contrast, are taught that they may use the entire box of crayons, minus the two that belong to the boys, so long as they color within the lines and as instructed. we need to let our girls know that art in technicolor flows naturally through each of us, and for our boys to know that all colors belong to them just the same.

the divine is embodied here, in each of us, for the highs, lows, losses and redemptions of the human experience. we are not meant to apologize for our might, our light, or our humanity.

we then go on to teach boys that their feelings don’t matter, not even to themselves, and that the only person who would ever care how they feel is their woman. if she doesn’t, then there’s no one. we teach girls that they must provide for themselves, lest they go hungry, and that to receive, to be connected, would leave them vulnerable to harm. we teach our children that they are alone in these most profound ways, that what we need must be outsourced or extracted, or that we will inevitably go without — that our worth lies only in what we achieve and produce. this isn’t right and it is exactly how we built a cruel, unsafe world from the inside out.

178

armored and unmoored.

everyone gets hurt when they’re little. and we each learn to fashion our own armor the best way we know how. this is armor no one can take away from us.

for some it is the armor of invisibility. for others it is the armor that dazzles and shines. but we each will be given as much time as we need to feel the weight of that armor. to carry it on our backs. to forget our own faces because we’ve become used to seeing a battle mask in the glass.

only the warrior can decide when she’s ready for peace. only the soldier can decide when he tires of war. and this is the journey. we can learn to stop apologizing for who we are, defending who we are, hiding who we are, and performing who we are when we surrender the armor in exchange for the freedom to be who we are. to experience who we are.

and if we are lucky, we get to have both: years behind the armor (imagining the battle outside) and a present unmasked, with the sun, wind and rain directly on our skin and the sudden realization that it is always only right now, this choice, this opportunity to choose the light. the armor comes off when we are ready, and not a minute sooner.

177

what we give.

everyone is here with something to give. and when you find out what you are here to give, what it is you were always meant to do, the universe will help you learn discernment and detachment as it relates to that gift. and everything in your life will show you how this is true.

as a channel and not the Source, you must give with detachment, without concern for the outcome. you gave exactly what was meant to be given through you. so if it goes into the trash or is destroyed soon after, that is not your concern. others have their own journey just as you have yours.

this is why you must give with both discernment and detachment. what you give is your gift and was never meant to be squandered. so you must give freely and with discernment, as a person who understands their own worth.

you learn to protect yourself when you remember that you are a gift, your energy is a gift, and what you give is a gift. we learn through contrast what it’s like to pour into a cup with holes in it, and how it feels when the giving fills instead of draining. we learn through our own resentments and the resentments of others when we and our gifts are poorly received.

and as we learn, we remember that giving and receiving has more to do with our relationship to ourselves and our relationship with the divine, than to anyone else on the outside. people come and go. our gifts are carried away by the wind. what matters is to give in a way that is aligned within.

176

the mirror.

we are embodied into a world that serves as mirror. we look into this mirror and we make our wishes.

“mirror, show me love. show me abundance and health. show me that i matter. show me connection. show me validation; show me what i want to see.”

and this is a mirror everyone looks into. we learn as children but we aren’t taught that the mirror is reflection. it’s not the thing itself. we come to find later that the only way to see our wishes come true in the mirror is to gift ourselves.

you want a love that lasts? you find it in yourself first. you want abundance that sticks? you live it first and put it on your own back. you want good health and happiness? you find and heal everything that is keeping you sick and small inside. you bring your shadow into the light to be honored as your weapon of love and not lack. you want safety and connection? you find and protect who you are inside. you connect with yourself and your own story before you go around offering yourself for crumbs and pouring yourself into the cups with holes in them.

it’s funny that we learn the steps, the choreography, backwards at first, before the dance finally pushes us into forward motion. we make sure to create safety for the exact people who are not safe to themselves or to us. we make sure to lavish abundance and care upon those who are not here to love us, but to teach the sacred lesson that we must detach from our own giving. we make every bargain, and compromise everything we have, just to negotiate survival, when our deepest desire is to thrive. we’ll love what we see in the mirror when we remember how to use the mirror properly.