This is about me.
What if it is all about me?
My life as my own art project.
Like the ocean coming and connecting with the shore, then pulling back, my breath entering my body and leaving, the thoughts coming and going in my mind, the emotions washing up and down my body.
The sensation of being alive feels like a flower blooming and closing, its own breath being personified in its movement.
I am forever one with myself.
It is about time I make peace with myself.
What does this look like?
Full embrace.
I embrace myself—I own myself—and I love myself deeply, in all of it.
The mess, the chaos, the silliness, the pleasure, the disorganization, the structure, the motivation, the stillness, the pause, the movement, the birth, the excitement, the presence, the spiraling, the death, the courage, the tired, the weakness, the vital, every single part of me, and every single part of my life is mine to own.
It is mine to be with.
It is mine to celebrate.
It is mine to feel.
It is mine to cherish, honor, and surrender into.
My commitment to my own life is remembering in the slowest, hardest, and most painful moments, in the chaos, that I am still me, I am love, I am living and breathing, I am growing, and I can come into balance through full embrace of all of it.
My car is a mess? I own it.
People stare at me? I own it.
People love me? I own it.
People hate me? I own it.
I am understood? I own it.
I am misunderstood? I own it.
I am loud? I own it.
I am quiet? I own it.
I am a full bodied, full blooded, fully activated, fully alive woman. I own that shit. There is nothing more glorious, more beautiful, more exciting, more symbolic of life than me, as a woman, embracing every part of my life and womanhood, every part of my being, every part of my experience. No one wants to stare into the soul of a perfect painting—there is no soul there. The soul lives in the everything and the everything has every shade of light, dark, and color.
With this devotion to my own activity of life, I say goodbye—a very good bye—to the girl who once judged, questioned, and doubted her every move. I honor her and thank her for all she taught me, for all she survived, and for giving birth to the woman who now sits here, writing this sentence, ready to live in her fullest expression.
I love and respect all versions of myself, all phases of my life, and every season and cycle to come. My life has become a love letter to God. My life has become the masterpiece of God. An expression of the Goddess. As for the rest of it, I bury it in its rightful death, its peaceful transition, and honor the life that it was, leaving it behind to be transmuted into the greatest love story of all time.
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