Here I Am

These days, more and more, I am giving myself permission
to show up.
To share my raw vulnerability, to expose my shadows and to display my flaws.
In the process, I am also allowing my Self to revel in my light, to exude my beauty and to experience my divine. I am letting go, more and more, of my fears
of being judged and "not good enough."

I am making mistakes and enjoying every step of the process.
What I used to internalize as negative and/or "bad," is now, simply, par for course.
I am learning
lessons too vital to be overstepped.
I am trusting that
this moment
n-o-w
is perfect.

I am listening
to what my heart says
to the quick pulses that throb out from our collective consciousness.
I am feeling deeply
as I always have
yet with a quicker response time
to you, and your be-ing,
to our shared dance
as we continue to revolve around
that great fire in the sky
and as we continue to evolve
into the night
into what comes next.

And, whatever that is,
just know,
I'll be there.

Giving My Self Permission: Showing Up, Take II

So, I ran and I eluded.
I hid and I cowered.
I escaped and I fled.
I played the irresponsible, flaky one.

In sixth grade, I began ditching classes with a peer who has
since perished in a car accident. I quit gymnastics and joined
an activity that all the local girls in my neighborhood participated in -
the Vista drill team. I took up and then let go of softball and tennis.

In ninth grade, I wandered around the beloved streets of my local 'hood,
smoking pot and tagging stop signs with graffiti. My best friend and I were busted for shoplifting at the local CVS and then I was arrested for a minor in possession while strolling to a party in Carlsbad. At seventeen, I gave my virginity away to the class slut. I almost even got kicked out of college before I had even started classes - I had to beg to be admitted in a written letter.

Although my headaches, which had plagued my high school career, disappeared while I was at SSU, I fell back into a deep, cellular patterning. Once again, I had found a mutually reciprocal relationship with an action that fed my being. As a Modern Dance major, my world expanded profoundly and my unadulterated joy for pure movement lent itself positively to my life. Nonetheless, I simply stopped showing up. I ditched classes, preferring to stay wrapped tight within the warm confines of my cozy bed. I'd tell my friends that I would make an appearance at their weekly parties. I would ride my bike over to their L-Street house, walk up to the door, hear the revelry and then turn around and go back home. I did not understand my own behavior. It was unconscious and severely painful. Yet, I could not stop repeating it.