I am here because…

I want to love me.

I want to love life… even the parts I don’t want.

I want to accept that I will never be done trying to love all the parts.

This is not a fight to the death… and it also is.

And I see I am not alone, and yet I also am.

The story of me includes lonliness and heartbreak and fierceness and armor and yet…

I see my strength without the story, too.

I am not just me, the story of me.

I am also you.

We are all connected. Together.

Alone, together. As one.

Ugh.  Cheesy.  And true.

I want to FEEL connection, and I know it’s already there.

I want to choose awareness, and is it really a choice?

I want to be profound.  Why?  Aren’t I enough?

I feel a tightness in my tummy.  My child screams he’s hungry.  I hear we’ve bombed another country.  My daugheter spills her cereal all over the floor.

What a strange existence.

Then later… I sit safe and cozy in my bed, trying to think what to say.

How do I share my heart?  Why?

I feel so solid and whole.  And yet I am just a part.  A sliver.  A thread in the grand tapestry.

My body aches, reminding me I’m a human being.

In a weaving with no pattern, yet I think I can see glimpses of order…

And it doesn’t matter.

I’m still just here.

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