The Original, A Poem

These battles and victories,

often fought for, often desired,

are nothing more than

unoriginal tails of self-inflicted pain.

A copy of others hating themselves,

from my mother,

and my mother's mother.

Yet a glimmer,

more powerful than identification.

Never forced open,

In surrender,

I bloom.

The original.

I suddenly channeled this at a time when I was getting frustrated at the stories I was identifying myself with... I was forcing myself to be "enlightened" at a time that I was most resistant.

I fear of unrightfully inheriting responsibilities.

I am indignant of the negligence of my well-being.

I worry that I'll turn, once again, into a slave to the oppressor.

I was pre-empting the darkest timeline of an unforeseeable future.

Then I remembered, it is not me to be hateful. I was experiencing powerlessness from forgetting who I am.

I remembered I have a choice.

I remembered that I have earned my freedom.

I don't owe my life to these oppressors. They are teachers showing me examples of how not to be. I have lived a life in service of my liberation in Mind, Body, and Spirit. Don't mistake if for escape because I have confronted them by confronting myself and my needs.

This is what so many people don't tell you because they don't know it themselves:  Forgetting your joy in service of illusions is an enormous Sin. If you feel unaligned, you are only misguided. Your job is to remember who you are and to follow the path that brings you joy.

Love you all. ♡