this is what I want you to know
The final few hours of 2014. How to sum up a year that shook me loose, wrung me out, ripped me open, stitched me back whole again (mostly)? How to encapsulate unspeakable grief and startling peace? How to admit (in whispers) that in many ways, I'm glad this year is over?
This is what I want you to know.
This is what I want myself to know.
It's okay to be out of words or spilling over with them. It's okay to throw out every ragged definition of who you used to be and bravely (timidly) bravely (timidly) write a new/old story, the one of your own becoming.
It's okay to wash up on the shore of your life, gasping, bedraggled, drawing the most pure revitalizing holy breaths you have ever breathed.
It's okay to feel lost. It's okay to shred your map or burn the way back. It's okay to lift your face to heartpounding light, even as tears stream down your tired face. It's okay to shout with laughter, to shake with joy, to tremble with unexpected hope.
You are big enough to hold contradiction. You are rich enough to carry I don't knows. You are strong enough to embrace all of you: your undoing, your coming-back-together, and the sacred struggle in between.
This is your journey.
Every stumbling, dancing step. Every ragged breath. Every howl of yes. This is your journey. Nobody else will or can travel it for you.
But we can travel together, you and I, we in trusted tribe. Forever flock. We sacred-seekers and Love-believers and heart-on-our-sleevers. We allow the sacred space between us. We allow the shifting, the turning, the burning. We allow the wilderness of our hearts and Rumi's field where we meet in the middle.
This is what I want you to know:
You are not just okay. You are spectacular. You are radiant. You are astoundingly beautiful in your headlong tumble into the raw and real. You are shining with yes. You are divine.
Just as you are.
You are, I am,
the loved of Love.
I'll see you in 2015, dear one.
with deep love & respect,
your fellow phoenix soul