A Love Letter

Youth is beautiful. There is no denying what the eye can see. A consensus effortlessly presented, allured, and enjoyed. Youth carries that. A beautiful innocence and existence of living on the surety of inexperience. It is a state of being without truly knowing its juxtaposition. Trust without questioning its value. 

Youth comes with a faith that exists without resistance or leverage that develops from being tested. There’s a freedom that just is, at no cost or effort. The road intended for youth is untouched, clean and new. There is tremendous beauty in youth. Whether observed by those who have expended it or those able to observe while still breathing its sweet age. Physical beauty. A young face and body. A young heart. An unobstructed energy. It is indeed beautiful. 

There is also the kind of beauty that unfolds with age and experience. It is depth found after digging in muddy trenches with tested trust and freedom. This Beauty is found in trembling vulnerability and earned belief. The surface wrinkles and hair turns grey, as the spirit sparks and is reintroduced to itself. We have seen first-hand what was once given to us. We have repeatedly fallen until we learned and the skin we carry tells our stories. 

Beauty that comes with age is in the bones and roots unseen to the naked eye. It is a felt beauty. Beauty of the spirit. Beauty grown by humility and experience. Beauty that has birthed our souls and weathered our physical exteriors. This beauty shines from the inside. It is manifested through our resilience. 

It is a peace in the discomfort. This kind of beauty fuels a magnetism from your core, felt only by others who recognize the will. It is what propels life forward in evolution. Beauty unfolded through age is the heartbeat of all possibility. It is where change is fueled. It is the opportunity that perseverance creates, the surrender that strife for change offers, and the blossoming of authenticity. 

It is you, unfolding. Opening. 

Never Alone

You see it? It's there. 

A Universe inside of you. 

A sustainable and boundless supply of stars and constellations. 

I see it. 

Go ahead. 

Take a deep look. 

Unveil it. 

Unleash your full expression. 

Fully equipped. Fully supported. More than enough. 

There is no separation between you and the world outside of you. 

Never alone. 

Always with purpose for being. 

Santosha

What are you running from that pushes you to run towards, my darling? 

Can you stand still and be at peace with what is? 

The bad won't hurt you and the good won't leave you. 

You will see that in stillness. 

You will see that behind the seen. 

It is then when the world comes to you. 

Trust it will come to you. 

It will find you. 

You just have to let yourself be found. 

'The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away' - John Steinbeck 

Dear, Time.

Oh, Time. How we humans have tried to define you and control you. How we wrestle with your presence and our place in it. We carefully watch over you. We build everything in our lives around you. All of our efforts are bound by your existence and we measure ourselves through the appearance of staying ahead of you. We try and try to dominate you before you have a chance to dominate us. 

You slyly smile with a smirk, allowing us to pretend. You know it is our fear of you and our lack of control over you, that pushes us to grasp you so tightly.  

Time, you dress up so nicely as a metaphor. 

We cannot see you or touch you, and yet we get older still. Days pass. Nights come and go, as you remind us to live; to live as if your existence wasn't suppressive, but inspiring instead. And so we battle within to stay present and enjoy you without counting. As a wealthy person would lose his wealth by spending days counting it instead of producing more. 

How will we spend you, dear Time? 

Shall we hold your hand like a loyal companion or race you with a blindfold hoping to be a step ahead of what is? You are always alive, even when we aren't. We wake up one day and realize you have been busy. We wake up and see ourselves older and count our wealth in experiences and lessons. Our children are taking over where our memories had left off and our parents are far beyond our grasp of comfort; reminding us of your truth. 

Oh, Time. You clever and mystical companion. Observing as we sleep through our days. Patiently waiting so that we may discover for ourselves, that we only have so much left of you.

On that magical day, once we have taken enough advantage of you, you shake us awake into this art of truly living. You help us to crack open into the acceptance of what once was; the surrender of what is, and into the courageous vulnerability of opening to the unknown ahead. 

Oh dear, Time. How shall we celebrate you?

Travels

If you ever feel like you're going in circles and not 'moving' forward; exerting effort with little to show for it; stop where you are and remember. 

We are here to reveal the stars that reside in each others' worlds. 

Your acts ripple through countless lives. 

Your breath alone breathes life into our lungs. 

You have impacted many without knowing it. 

You have been seen and loved, even if the words haven't graced your ears. 

Trust that. Feel that. 

This truth does not exist in proof or in measurable results. It can't. You see, it would be physically impossible to measure the magnitude of your life on this earth. There is no scale, no measurement, no accounting in tangible format for visible proof. It is in the fibers of all that pulsates and breathes. So you must believe in the felt, in the heart, in the magic, in the silence, and in the glow that swells from the depths of you. 

I have learned to respond rather than to react. I have gained a desire to be of service rather than a need to win a race. I intend to make choices based on love rather than fear. The culmination of experiences and events in my life have led me here. The greatest of all may be that I have a clear need to create the life I love. As simple and as majestic as that. 

And maybe that's enough to remind me how far I have come. 

So have you. 

And so it is. 

To my love

Feel everything. Every-Thing. In darkness, hopelessness, and storms, always trust in your deepest of hearts that you know the sun is there. Be open to life. Pave the way now so that throughout it, you see and feel every sunrise, every sunset and every moment in between. It is all a gift. Allow your soul to have a direct connection to this life. There is no use in hiding your beautiful light. Let it shine without asking for permission or apology. 

May your purpose and passions be yours and yours alone. Pleasing others for that sake alone will only diminish your ability to truly touch souls. Question the should's, when they arise. Avoid pleasing for that sake alone, altogether. Me included. Especially for me. Pleasing your own heart is and always will be, enough. It is everything. Please remember that sacred truth and BE it, my love. 

You are always enough. 

May you recognize the sun always at your face.  May you trust that grace is always watching over you; guiding you through lessons to help you reach higher. Lessons to heal your heart and allow your soul to sing. May gratitude leave your lips as constantly and easily as breath. They are one in the same. Recognize this life is a gift and everything in your path is there for a reason, my love. 

You will always have a family. We will be your net to catch you. We will be ears to listen to every unspoken and rumbled word. We are eyes to watch in awe as you shine. We love you more than you could imagine. There will be times when you won't be able to. Our love is here all the same. 

Thank you for choosing us. Thank you for gracing us with your heart and spirit. We are better because of you and will always strive to evolve higher; to show you examples of the boundless possibilities, and expansive love that is available to you in this lifetime. May you live your most beautiful life, my darling. 

You are surely imperfect

You are surely imperfect. 

You should know that. 

A living puzzle.

Scraps bound together by the stickiness of frustration, the dampness of fear, the magnetic excitement of wonder, hope, love, and the soft landing into surrender. Each piece as colorful, unique and unexpectedly precise as the next. We take it all apart. Examine. Question. Force pieces that don't fit. And once we have had enough and feel ready, we observe. We step away and look at ourselves from a distance, to see the art we've made with what we were handed. 

As much as we try to figure ourselves out, we secretly know it's an endless pursuit. The questions multiply with each potential response. We want more and more, knowing there is nothing to grasp; nothing to attain. A bland uneasiness we feel as we search for something we can't define. What a laborious and fruitless treadmill run. We confine ourselves to this itchy turtleneck thinking it will make us better. 

You are surely imperfect.

 It was written in the stars long before you ever began thinking that you-being-you, wasn't enough. I wonder what made us create that thought in the first place. Tell that moment to go to fuck itself; that first moment that led to so many myths of inadequacy. So many efforts to mask yourself. 

Don't just give it a rest. Give it up all together. Let yourself be. 

You weren't born perfect. You didnt lose the ability to become perfect. You never had it. This striving you do. This tiresome pushing and collecting of the not enough's. All in an effort to reach something that will never be because it isn't you. This roller coaster of 'achievements' for someone else's game.  

Whatever you are searching for or hiding from, already lives within you.

You are surely imperfect. Each and every impeccable imperfection was designed for you. Lean into that. Listen to that. Make art with that. Thank this mosaic of you. Nothing more is needed. No outside ingredients to add. It will all unfold, one messy and masterful piece at a time. There are no mistakes. There is no right or wrong answer. 

You are the answer. 

You, my sweet, are surely and wonder-fully, perfectly designed.