weary.

tired.

given up.

this meticulous and breakneck work of protecting myself has left me run down.

i did not break my back to create fire inside me to keep you warm

I want to create…

beautiful things…

that breathe life…

into that which has little.

To be a vessel where new life sprouts. A hatchery for goodness.

I wake before dawn to be greeted by the slightest light of the moon.

The crescent moon. She draws me towards her. She speaks to me.

That sliver of light. The moon at her dimmest illumination before the darkness. A sliver of hope before the converging of the unknowing.

Sometimes that narrow shaving of light is all I need. It is sufficient. It is plenty.

“Do not shrink. Do not puff up. Stand my sacred ground.”

I first heard this gold nugget of a truth a few months ago from Brene Brown, in a series she did on what our experiences in shame look like. It’s also something I had to be reminded in my latest therapy session, as I’m, once again, crying over a shit-ton of spilled milk.

My centering prayer a few days ago looked something like this:

<Beginning Chime>

*Deep Breath*

All I am guaranteed in this life is this one breath. This one breath I am breathing now.

I feel sad, angry, frustrated, pent-up.

This will be a continuation of my last post, so if you want to catch up, you can read it here.

This week as my last words hung in the air, like an unresolved melody woven through painfully minor chords, I have been fighting this nagging urge to make sure everyone understands what I said as I meant it.

“Sweet girl. Look at me. You are okay. You are safe. I promise I will come back for you. I don’t know what to do to save you now, but I’ll come back tomorrow to check on you. But for today, know that you are safe and you are loved. I know you feel so scared right now, but I want you to know that you grow up to become a beautiful woman and you will be loved by many. You will have two daughters of your own and a husband and a home. And in this life you create, you are safe and you are loved. So, please keep holding on. Don’t let go just yet. You are so strong. I promise I will be back, and I promise you, you are okay.”

This weekend I marched in the largest demonstration in U.S. history. I am still processing the magnitude of this. That day, in downtown Seattle, I was a part of a sea of 170,000 humans, stretched over 3 miles, united in love, seeking equality…and this sea was just a drop in a global love ocean.