I know it seems like it would be easier to be someone else. To wear a mask. To even become that mask.

To become, so convincingly, a glittering masquerade ball of all the things you think you should be.

But it’s not easier at all. It’s exhausting.

It’s an all-encompassing 24 hours a day costume, with no weekends off.

It’s a circus act and a goddamn sequined lie.

We think we’re protecting ourselves by being slightly phony, watered down, puppet-like versions of our souls. We think we’re safeguarding our hearts by hiding ’em away, becoming cheap plastic robot automatons instead of raw, throbbing human poetry.

We are not safe in our epic hiding.

There is nothing more dangerous in the world than hiding in falsity, being inauthentic versions of our souls, playing glossy characters and well-rehearsed dress-up charades—conveniently avoiding truth and vulnerability like they’re deadly diseases. There is nothing more stifling or deeply destructive; nothing more confusing or disorienting.

Breathe in the truth of who you are.

It hasn’t disintegrated or disappeared.

I know you feel it—

Listen, to the ancient winds dancing inside your bones like stifled petals of plush springtime beauty

Listen, to the wildest lightning bolts of your electric being.

Listen, to the softest, tiniest whispers of thirsty longing.

Listen.

Stop twisting and turning and wringing out all your juiciness because you’re afraid for the world to see. Be bold enough, in this moment, to be seen in all your tangled, raw, juicy glory. You never needed to hide—not ever.

Because the world has been waiting with bated breath to see you.

Yes, love—all of you.

Did you forget how madly beautiful you are?

Step forward with all the bravery you’ve got, contained in your bones like butterflies.

Trust.

Trust in the truth of who you are.

Be it.

Embody all of it, every last inch and drop and ounce.

Yes—even when it’s inconvenient, messy, complicated, too loud, too quiet, too gritty, too f*cked up, too weird, too impolite—

Especially then.

Don’t ever abandon yourself again. Trust—fully—in the luscious truth of who you are.

Life only looks dark and bleak because you’re still pretending. Tiptoeing. Apologizing. Dancing politely around the truth. Leaning on your mask like it’s gonna save your life.

Stop it.

You’re far too beautiful for that.

Your soul begs to ooze out of your sleeves like honey and light up the entire night sky in a shocking display of unforgettable firefly electricity.

Your heart begs to roam free—to roar, to expressively paint the expansive canvas of your life with a thousand dripping neon paints, without editing, without stifled interruption from the exhausting monsters in your mind.

Do you know how much electric power lies dormant, inside you?

Tap into it.

Let your soul show, let your heart speak freely.

Be exactly yourself and see how life responds—

See how everything around you

Blooms

Fantastically.

Life can’t bloom, you can’t bloom—when you’re pretending.

So base your life on the beautiful truth of who you are—

And see what love takes root, what beauty, what magic, what lush vines of art appear before you.

Conduct the most daring experiment of a lifetime:

Be you.

All of you.

Because, f*ck—

We are not here to be slightly ourselves. We were not put on this planet to be a timid imitation of our souls, a tiny crumb of our juicy, throbbing hearts or hide our roarin’ truths in a silent sea of shiny, pretty, distracting things.

We are here to be our selves, so beautifully, so authentically, so not distracted at all—

So,

Be bold.

Peel off your mask like old, yellowed wallpaper.

Shed that scratchy, faux snakeskin.

Be you.

Naked and howling.

Flowering,

In the hot mouth of truth.

Just you—a juicy jewel in the making of the rushing ruby waters of life.

Yes, it’s raw. Yes, it’s scary. Yes, it’s vulnerable, shaky beyond words.

But it is safe.

It is safer than anything in the world.

Because when you trust firmly in the truth of who you are,

You come home.

You stop hiding, and suddenly—everything seems possible.

Listen.

To the ancient aching whispering in your bones—say yes to that subtle call, that sweet familiar birdsong.

Breathe in the beautiful truth of who you are—

I know you feel it.

Now, be it.

No masks. No bullsh*t. No apologies.

‘Cause my god, you’re stunning without your mask.

You look just like you—

The real you.

And that’s the most gorgeous thing in the world.

Real looks damn good on you.

 

Author: Sarah Harvey

Editor: Catherine Monkman

Image: Axel Naud/Flickr