I release your grip.

I will make it “ugly” because I can, because it doesn’t mean anything.

You are something I was force fed that I came to equate my self worth.

No longer.

Instead I will practice the simplicity of being me.

I will notice when I am not creating as a means of avoidance of the inevitable mistakes. 

I will celebrate the mess.

I will begin without knowing what will it look like.

I will take comfort in the fact that there will be another iteration, there always is.

When the uncomfortable feelings arise : may I be brave enough to meet them and feel them with a sense of tenderness and then relish in the space that opens up.

And when I forget all of this, in your perfect way may you turn me back to the divine.        

____________________________________________________________________

These words were inspired by this month’s Heartistry : a creative circle with beyond spectacular women. Join the next one : Sunday, November 22 @3pm EST : on zoom and FREE : Sign up here.

This topic has been a through line in my being and my work, and I’ve written about it in various forms here.

What if I lean into celebration to recalibrate my cells?

Noticing what is vs. what is not.

What is present vs. what is missing.

What is inherent in me vs. what is perceived to be lacking.

I welcome deep reprogramming from all directions : past, present and future. Receiving the love that I have been unable to let in.

My nose has been pressed against the glass searching for the imperfections, the shortcomings, the gap of where I am and where I want to be. Completely missing the inherent magic in right where I am.

I am coming into deep acceptance of myself and opening up to love in all forms.

…

“It is not the weight you carry but how you carry it : books, bricks, grief – all in the way you embrace it, balance it, carry it.”

-Mary Oliver from the poem Heavy

Not everything has to happen : today, or this week, or this month, or even this year.

I can capture the questions + ideas and sit with them. Letting them wash over me, while I dare to be OK with the uncertainty.

Patiently trust. Making time just be – no agenda present – how hard that can be.

Because there will be a day, I’m sure where I will wish so desperately for today. I will cherish the ridiculous imperfection that reminds me : there is no other place I’d rather be, none at all.

Drop the labels of what is good and bad.

Cover yourself with infinite acceptance, for who you are and where you are.

Let it be imperfect. It should be imperfect. Perfection is paralyzing, elusive, and one can become a slave to it. And then we miss the beauty in right now because it is clouded with judgment. Of what is not right, of wanting to be somewhere other than here. Someone other than you.

Bow to your heart.

Drop the impossible expectations you may hold high above you, so you can lift up and float above.

Be so radical that you take the pressure off. And love yourself for where you are right now.

I’ll be here, working alongside you.

You are 6 weeks old and I am reminded of how fast this goes. Your big brother is proof, he started out like you and now he is two!

You are reminding me of so much:

Of how little control I have, of how much beauty lies in stillness, of what an illusion perfection + completion are. You are helping me see what is important and what isn’t, even though it sometimes takes me a while to figure it out.

You are a delight… almost all of the time, except the times you are crying and I have no idea why. Your cheeks are amazingly round and you smile right before you fall asleep.

You are adored and I hope you can feel that.

Love,

Mom