Love Loves You.
No matter how weird, awkward or flawed you feel, love loves you.
No matter the depths of the suffering you are managing, love loves you.
No matter if you speak when you want to be quiet, love loves you.
No matter if you listen to your intuition or not, love loves you.
No matter your frequency or human level of consciousness, love loves you.
No matter how free you feel, love loves you.
No matter how much "work" you do on yourself to gain your own love, love loves you.
No matter your sensitivity or foolishness, love loves you.
No matter your ability to feel connected to love, love loves you.
No matter how embodied or not you are, love loves you.
No matter how much you judge or fear or mistrust others/life, love loves you.
No matter your wounds, love loves you.
No matter how afraid you are or where you misstep, love loves you.
No matter your mistakes and the amends you make, love loves you.
No matter whether good things are happening or bad, love loves you.
No matter how much joy or grief you feel, love loves you.
No matter your level of awakening, love loves you.
No matter your unmetabolized shadow, love loves you.
No matter the height of your light and genius, love loves you.
Love makes up the fabric of all that is.
Unhindered, she embraces everything.
She is the scene behind the scenes,
the sparkle beneath the sparkle,
the red in the rose,
the scent in the tree resin,
the buzz of the butterfly wings,
the shimmer of the hummingbird’s feathers,
the silence of the owl's flight,
the gentleness of the deer’s gaze,
the soothing way the tree meets your back,
the air meeting the expansion of your lungs,
the heat on your skin from the fires of the sun,
the water of your blood,
the pulse that beats your heart.
This body is made to hold as much love as we are able to mother ourselves, soften our hearts and open our vessels to the earth codes moving up through the bottom of our feet.
Anything we are not able to love is where we begin the adventure; the journey towards wholeness and well-being. Neither of which have anything to do with perfection.
Perfection is a myth constructed by a society so designed to thrive on made up economics that demands we place a hierarchy of value on the conditions of being human.
Perfectionism is a defense against feeling unsafe, unseen, unloved and untended too. It is required to survived in a culture that values economics over the flaws that spark the fires of creativity in the human soul.
Perfection is myth that sets a storm in the places where we most long to be held in the loving embrace of a nourishing, protective, loving inner parent.
Perfection is the perfect disguise for untended vulnerability that can so easily turn into unmetabolized grief lodging itself in shame or tension of shoulders, stomach and hips.
Wholeness and well-being have nothing to do with any of this.
A sense of well-being is laid in the foundation of a healthy inner mother; a resolve and deep knowing that all of you is worthy of your own love, devotion and respect. A commitment to an honoring of the layers of your inner life, a deep communion with the wisdom of your dreams and emotions, a deep respect for the unconscious life as equal to the rational one, an embracing of your own mystery and a willingness to learn how to tango, cha cha, mambo, salsa, swing and swirl your way between all the parts of you.
Love loves you.
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