You have permission.
To be a writer. To be beautiful without makeup. To be in love with music. To be excited about food, people, waking up to coffee.
You’re allowed to play with the moment, with the surprises, the unwelcome guests. You’re allowed to scream from your frustrated tears.
You have permission to not always have deep gratitude, but promise me you won’t ignore the moment because it’s too much to bear. That you’ll be in awe, in light. That you’ll hold the moment and then let it go.
You don’t have to be saddened or feel heaviness for fear of losing the one you love. Be there with them—they’re meant for you. All of them. All of it. It’s there for you.
Promise me you won’t feel guilty or make your heart shrink because you’re scared of what it might be like to feel in the marrow of your bones.
Notice everything, move on. Like a happy child, which you so deeply are inside.
Untrap yourself. Our minds are the traps! Untrapping ourselves is always a choice.
You can be you anywhere. Not just in your own space. Home is wherever your heart sits. It might be in an Airbnb or a rental car.
Don’t numb down. Feel it all. Let the world fall apart at your fingertips, crumble onto the wooden floor or itchy carpet.
Glitter in all of your beautiful, organized chaos.
The dusty remains will turn into intricate patterns that make your temple marvelous.
Image: NASA/ Flickr
Editor: Khara-Jade Warren