Yes, and…

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 loneliness 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 daughter 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.