it's in her spirit..

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There was a time I considered myself spiritual.
I would build altars, chant alone and do yoga poses.
I would simultaneously judge, rage and project all the wounds from my past.
I would try to be present.

I’m ready for just one day where I wake fully certain of who I am and trusting that all I engage in is spiritual.
I’m ready to believe that my past is ok, right now is ok and what lies ahead is ok.
I’m ready for a day where my physical body is ‘pain free’, where I can honour its ravishing beauty.
I’m ready for a conversation that I leave unfazed about whether or not I talked too much, asked enough interesting questions, appeared calm, understanding, ‘on brand’ and zen enough.

During the time when I considered myself spiritual, I was confused about how to safely and wisely guide others ... I would feel guilt that my established rituals could instantly die at my own whim ...There was an underlying feeling of exhaustion from comparing, competing and growing old ... I’d curl up and cry feeling stuck in the patterns of my ancestors .. I would read old notebooks and realize I’ve been enduring this ‘experience’ of spirituality for probably 9 or maybe 12 years.

I’ve always loved the ritual of lighting incense because the familiar scent was a comforting reminder of a self I thought I could be...
So now, I’ll light that or a candle or a spark or whatever I get my desperate hands on first. I’ll keep praying to unlock the puzzle of my dear body, to resolve the crevasses that I dig into my heart, to forgive myself for holding on to so much for much too long.

So now, I’ll wake each morning mimicking the angelic song of my daughter. I’ll wake and greet her joy for life with an equally excited melody and a symphony of kisses, jokes and notes of innocence. Her sound always reminds me of something spiritual I’ve spent lifetimes yearning to breathe in.

Posted on October 16, 2017 .