Why not me?

Why not now?

Create just to create.

Share because you feel called to.

Abandon fear in pursuit of passion.

Forgo judgement in pursuit of grace and love.

This moment is all that you have.

Verbal stories have been passed down throughout the generations,

throughout all of time.

We share of loves and of family,

and of triumphant battles,

of heartbreak and of loneliness,

and of our greatest falls.

And as I sit here with you all,

and listen to your words intermingle,

I, for the first time in a long time,

feel the bravery to remember my own.

To sit down with myself,

with my own truth, and remember.

To recall the worn, folded pages,

with scratched out words, and

think about the story of my life,

and wrestle with my demons,

as you speak of overcoming them.

I hear the chains breaking off of you,

off of me and I hear the sound

of freedom ringing.

The sound of a heavy heart,

and a tired soul,

finally at peace with their own truth,

and the healing to be found within it.

This is the power of empathy,

of shared truths,

of testimony.

Some days I can feel that spirit craves to write, to share, to put it all out there, but my mind, anxious and tired, does not have the will, the words simply will not come.

But I am learning that I do not have to force myself to create to know I am creative. I do not have to doubt my purpose because I need to rest.

I do not have to be anything other than what I am.

And some days I am sad. Some days I sob until my eyes swell.

Some days I am anxious. Some days I delete more messages than I send.

Some days I am tired. Some days I get off work and immediately fall asleep on my couch watching tv.

Some days I fall short.

Some days I let myself down.

Some days I wonder why I push on.

But I am worthy. And I am here. And this is who I am.

And who I am looks different moment by moment, year by year, and I am learning to accept who I am. In every moment. In every circumstance. In the midst of every difficult day. I am who I am.

I am here. I am alive.

And as long as I am alive, there will again be days where I thrive. And there will again be days where I feel connected to spirit. There will again be days where love leads.

There will again be days where I feel passionate. There will again be days where I write with abandon and without anxiety. There will again be days where I create.

But until that day, I will sit in acceptance. This is who I am today.

And who I am today is many things, and many things make up who I am.

And I am whole.

And I am worthy.

I am who I am.

I’m not really sure why I

bought this book

or picked up this pen

Just to let them sit on a shelf

and collect dust.

I guess I have a bad habit

of picking up dreams

Just to forget them

somewhere else.

I hope I rediscover them,

Just like this book,

Just like the person

I wanted to be.

I hope she never forgets that

she is full of empty pages

with endless possibility,

If only she remembers to

pick them up off the shelf,

and dust them off—

these things come and go,

and then come back again,

so just be patient with yourself.

connection is the feeling of your skin against mine after a long and tiresome day. the space in between the inhale and the exhale during meditation. crying together in the car listening to our favorite song way too loudly. a table full with laughter between a group of friends who accept each other. the soul pouring heart to hearts that keep you on the phone for hours after you lose track of time. watching the sunset on the beach and remembering who you were with the last time you watched a sunset. watching the sunrise and remembering who you were with the last time you stayed up through the night to watch the rays of light gently kiss the flowing waves. connection is remembering.

connection is the raindrops meeting the earth and disappearing deep within its roots. connection is the life in the air when you reach the mountain tops. connection is the peace in the air when you rest in the mountain’s valley. connection is worshipping together. connection is serving together. connection is doing the work together. connection is “me too”. connection is “I hear you”. connection is “I understand”. connection is when eyes lock under the night sky and you feel your thoughts aligning.

connection is knowing you have been here together before not that many lifetimes ago. connection is a story as old as time. connection is the draw you feel to the fire. the moon. the clouds. the butterfly that gracefully glides by moment by moment. connection is how the people come together. culture. community. compassion. connection is the past meeting the present meeting the future. connection inspires awareness. connection prays for love. connection understands everyone could use a little more love. a little more grace. a little more forgiveness. connection understands that you and I are one.

She comes dressed as all of your fears. She crawls into bed

with you, and undresses her stresses on you, and one by one. You beg for her to

leave you be—

you two have played this game before. But she taunts you with worrisome whispers, and when you turn away, her terror follows, her fingers caress you, her voice

surrounds you, her presence inspires claustrophobia. Her grip over you a gentle reminder—

you’ll never be able to break off this toxic love affair with

Insomnia.

And I remember

the first time my necklines,

Became blurred lines,

and then borderlines

became crossed lines,

and now every time I sigh

I

Hear the cries

over guidelines

that should have been redefined.

And now every time I breathe

I

Wonder if my necklines

can be rectified.

starting again for the first time feels like stepping into the sunshine on your porch for the first time again after hibernating in your bedroom for 9 and a half long days. the first sip of a London fog on a crisp Monday morning. filling out your journal and listening to your weekly discovery tucked away in the corner of the patio at your favorite local shop. sitting in the waves searching for crabs with new friends in the middle of your twenties. receiving calls from your sister throughout the week and getting the opportunity to pour into each other, cry, yell, and process together, laugh and dream-like kids. rediscovering a sense of wonder. reconnecting with your creative nature. doing something you used to love just for the fun of it. trying something new just for the fun of it. letting yourself be bad at something and still enjoy it. talking to that one friend you hadn't heard from in months and reconnecting over the heartache of the collective human struggle. sitting under the stars and realizing just how small you are. catching a glimpse of a shooting star and realizing just how important your dreams are. crying on the edge of your bed with your mom, talking about family baggage, the curses we pass on, along with the blessings, for this is the healing of deep-rooted familiar trauma. celebrating with your therapist when you start to make the connections. the way you stand taller as you rebuild confidence in yourself as you actually do the hard work of learning to follow through on commitments, goals, and dreams. the way you stand taller and rebuild your confidence when you stand up for your boundaries walking down the same streets you did five years ago reminiscing on growth. finally pulling your old journal off the shelf to write this very poem on beginning.

the friend that always makes space for you in a conversation. the coworker that asks you questions with intention, hoping to hear your genuine answer because they truly want to understand you just a little bit better. the ones that honor your truth and allow you to show up exactly as you are. the loved one that accepts you unconditionally but still challenges you to be better tomorrow than you were today. the barista that always smiles at you and shares their kindness. sometimes it’s a stranger that gets you out of your head and brings you back into the present. sometimes it’s a stranger that carries you through the most dreadful of days. the friend that offers you loving advice. the friend who makes you laugh. the friend that you can sit in silence with. the friend who knows what you’re saying with a single look. the friends from childhood who have seen you grow from a reckless freckle-faced young girl to a bold and passionate woman— they can tell the eyes of your old soul carry a little more wisdom now. the lover who holds your heart gently and says I know that others have not been graceful with this before but I will not falter. the person who inspires you. the person who believes in you. the person who pours into you. the teachers. the dreamers. the faithful. the trustworthy. the loyal. the brave. the honest. the lovers. the advocates. the creative. the curious. the mindful. the person that is patient with you as you excavate the inner layers of yourself and rediscover the person long buried beneath. the ones that celebrate you. the ones that embrace you. the ones that see you.

Do you dare

allow yourself

to dream again?

To hang up old ideas,

masks, and perceptions,

and reshape your vision?

To use

what once was

to alchemize the unseen?

What greatness is

waiting for you on the

other side of your self doubt?

Do you dare

allow yourself

to rise anew?

To become

something more than

you had ever believed true?