It’s hard to go there.
To that place inside of me that cringes every time I’m nudged to go deeper into who I am.
It’s much easer to play the game, hold up the façade that everything’s perfect and so am I.
But eventually the energy it takes to hold up my guard exhausts itself and I’m left facing me: imperfect me.
The me that is both human and divine.
The me that’s not yet complete, not finished.
The me that’s being transformed, bit-by-bit, day-by-day;
Seeking and sometimes finding balance and peace.
Who are you? I want to shout down my throat hoping the hollow in my lungs will echo back an answer.
But then I stop; rest for a moment; look around, and nature sings her answer back to me.
You are like the dandelion, both wild and free; flower and weed gracing the grass with the yellow light of inner beauty.
You are like the forest cluttered with fallen branches and twigs; scruffy like the moss carpet ground upon which you walk; yet filled with the strength of whispering pines flexing in the wind, stretching their arched backs toward the sky.
Can you sing your life-song like the cardinal?
Can you crawl like the caterpillar through the tall grass of your life as you evolve into a butterfly?
Can you accept and understand as nature echoes back to you: your imperfections are a pathway to growth; a pathway to becoming your Authentic Self for whom you are created to be; whom you are becoming?