December 20, 2018

For when we’ve Planted the Seeds of our New Selves.


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A post shared by Virginia Lung (@pranapeke) on Feb 28, 2018 at 10:30am PST

The uncovering of my sultry soul
came at a price I would pay again.

As a generally unaware person,
mindlessly going about her business,
it often took a demolition project to get my attention.

Until now.

The seeds of a new version of me planted.
My very own tears fertilized the ground
in which I laid crumbled and seemingly defeated.

The friends who listened to my wallows
didn’t lay a hand in helping me rise to my feet.
It was, in fact, their distance
that gave me the strength to start again.

Grasping and reaching out,
futile attempts to salvage my former self.
Poisonous not only to myself,
but to the lovelies surrounding me.

I picked up each fragmented piece of me and studied it.
Where did it belong?
Did I need it anymore?

A purge.

Clearing out my baggage of otherness,
I felt light, kinda like being a minimalist.

I kept searching, however,
for a place to call home again.

…In someone else.

Like a parasite seeking a host.
Who could I leech on?
Who could I mold into and become part of them?

Not this time dear.
We are not going for another round of this.
We will stand alone.

We will learn to love what isn’t there
as much as what remains.

Come closer to uncertainty.
That’s where aliveness lies.
Don’t be afraid my sweet.
Delve into the unknown abyss.

Open your eyes and see that love is all around us.
Cliche, but true.

Your heart swells.

That feeling, my dear, is what love is.
The joy for others.
Their well-being accentuates yours.
You haven’t lost anything.
It has spread out to gloriously propagate in the world.

Soften to the unease of this curious way of living.
Perhaps the awakening we’ve been sensing has always been there.


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Virginia Lung

author: Virginia Lung

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