But do I really need to? Do I need to stick my finger in the shotgun barrel? It just doesn’t feel like a fit for me anymore. It doesn’t nurture me. Apparently I have had to keep sticking my finger in the barrel until I just come back to, god I’d rather be the conversation of self love. Not for anyone else, for me. To nurture myself. Be the conversations of love that have made a difference for me in my life and continue to do so. Even debating the old division stories is still being a part of the division as I’m speaking into the duality of it. Why not just be the conversations of love I know are true for me? Better yet, why not just keep living them? Yup, pretty done sticking my finger in the shotgun barrel.
Most people will not intentionally place themselves in the face of hate. They run away from it. I run towards it. That’s where the alchemy is. That’s where the call is. I visualize it like shadows screaming at each other twisting around trying to find their way past each other in their confusion. All of it rushing around blindly seeking its way to the light. It’s all screaming for the path to love. Screaming ‘where is it?’, clawing to rise. Every action of the shadow is that scream. I can’t do anything about that but for myself. I can’t transform another person. That’s arrogant and impossible. I can love myself so fiercely I speak to my own shadow with love, ‘My dear, you are the path’. I’m that stand, once in awhile, another sees how if I love me, they too can love themselves. I feel it when that happens, when another person sees themselves with such love in a way they did not before think possible. I feel it when a person suddenly feels the innate love they are. When this happens, when they experience this, something that has no words shifts in me too. The most powerful gift to this world is self love. It’s the path waiting in the shadow.
It is so painful to consistently be in the face of such hate, such pain. To be met with such intense vitriol. Or to be completely ignored. To be threatened and mocked for being love. It hurts. It hurts like hell. I ask myself, why bother? Why keep trying? Why keep doing this? The answer I keep coming back to through stinging eyes with dried tears, is I just can’t see another reason for being on this planet besides being love. I can’t imagine a more worthwhile battle than standing in love. And I don’t kid myself, sometimes it’s a downright battle. That battle is in me. That battle is in my stand when I say yeah, you are worth love and it’s ok to stand for that.
When I am faced with another persons self hate identity I stay for as long as I can to stand for them to see the love they are.
When I create memes about being love I’m not just talking about blissful moments of being or the inevitable unshakable joy that comes from the remembrance that I am innately love. I also speak of the battlefield. I speak of the warrior of my heart. I speak of the multitude of conversations I involve myself in. The places of pain and hate I deliberately put myself inside of to be and remind Love. I speak of the deep body shaking tears of hearing a person shake off the self hate identification and get yes, they are love and they are worthy of love. Starting with their own love.
So though my words may be minimal at times, the power behind them is inevitable. I stand in love. I am love. And I see you are too.
For so long I conflated my power with my violence. In this misconception I began to shy away from my power in fear I would hurt others. These last few days it’s become evident that is not the case. My violence was not my power, my heart is and always has been. My tenderness with myself and self acceptance is. My stance in my self respect is. My ability to see love even in places where it can be difficult to, that’s powerful. My innate power and acknowledgement of my innate power, is my sovereignty. Which is not a doing, it is very simply my being. I don’t have to do anything to be powerful. I already am and always have been.
Each day more and more I’m losing attachment to shutting down my voice in fear of being misunderstood. Today I feel I am teaching myself this lesson. I will not shut down my voice. I need no agreement to speak. I would much rather touch the Source in me and trust that then hold myself shut for outer agreement.
Does the fear of being misunderstood hold a grip on your voice?
To me the rain is a very special event. My body instantly relaxes as the rain begins to fall, even the promise of its appearance delights me. The way rain touches the bark and begs a new rich color to come forward. It’s adventure on the foreheads of the leaves 🍃 leaving them slick with droplets of daring. The distinct smell in the air of Nature drinking. Walking through the experience feeling cozy and cavelike under protective gear. Watching rivers, ponds, lakes and oceans 🌊 greet their dancing counterpart atop their surface. A party of ripples and leaping exclamations of water drops 💦 on water! The thick feeling of life, of water taking over. The excited screams of those abandoning silly reason and leaping onto the concrete with bare feet and no umbrella 🌂 the raw abandon of leaping into puddles then racing back upstairs to warm showers, hot cocoa and giggles. The screams and squeals thrilled by sudden lightening. The elonged silly faces exclaiming shock of thunder and whoops and laughter running around the house from window to window. I love the rain so deeply. It is very cozy to me.
What does the rain elicit in you?