My foot – your leg- my pussy – your cock – my fingers- your lips – my tongue – your ears – my words – the air – the Earth – the plants – the animals – all beings – the stars – the space – the Source
Ease is accepting the reality of what is in front of me. Ease is being myself and not worrying about what others think of me. Ease is allowing things to unfold as they will, without steering towards an outcome. Ease is letting go of my resistance. Ease is breathing and breathing and breathing. Ease is reminding myself that I am alive and I am safe.
Come back home.
Come back to the Source.
The Earth. The ground. The womb.
Come back to me.
Come back to my Self.
My feet. My breath. My heart.
Come back to it all. Come back to everyone.
Our lives. Our loves. Our selves.
Live. Forget. Live. Forget.
My friends support me by cheering me on.
My friends help me celebrate, especially when I don’t feel able to.
My friends hold me to my word and express their love, their anger, their sadness, and their reality.
My friends allow me to be me. They love me for who I am. My friends don’t ask me to change who I am.
my why brain can’t is I busy let and go full of of the so idea many that things I I am want unloved to and help unsupported my and children unworthy and why paint can’t and I there look are for lots ways of to things prove that to need myself to that get I done am but loved I instead put because them I off think and that they would stay feel stuck better in than my the head alternative
I often look for ways to prove that I am right about being unloveable, unsupported, or unworthy. In doing so, I feel unloveable, unsupported and unworthy (go figure!), and I don’t enjoy feeling this way. Proving I am right was a strategy that used to serve me, in some way, and I am noticing my desire to experiment with the opposite.
I need to start with the belief that I am loved. Maybe I don’t totally, fully, utterly believe it yet, but I also never fully believed the other story either. Then I can begin to look for ways to prove that my new story is right.
The way my children want to hug me and tell me they love me, even after I’ve told them something that angered and upset them.
The way you look at me, and tell me how you feel, hold me close, support me through my shit, and are willing to try new things with me, even when they are scary.
The “I love you”s, the hugs, the talks, the notes, the touch, the gifts, the time spent.
I feel loved.
This is the answer to yesterday’s question, “What do I want?” : I need to listen to my heart. Sometimes my head wants something, sometimes it’s my pussy, but in the end, I want to listen to my heart. Sometimes a list of pros and cons will help, but in the end, I will listen to my heart. Sometimes my brain wants what it thinks is good for me, what will open doors to more possibilities, what will push my limits of comfort, but in the end, I will listen to my heart. I will choose to act on my desires from a place of love.