I invite you right now, to write a love letter to your true self. Even if you happened to do this writing exercise last month, do it again. Let it be fresh.
Simply pause, whatever you’re doing, and drop out of your busy, busy, busy mind. In this busy mind palace you can surrender. No longer trying to rearrange all the furniture, you can quit trying to manage all its contents. Drop the remodel.
Sit down, instead, and pull out a notebook. Pick up a pen and write.
Grateful to come home to myself again, and again, with tenderness and compassion, I touch and caress this skin on my arms, I say thank you to my arms for hugging all those you have hugged and being willing to embrace the embrace.
Tickling my armpits, I smile at the hair that grows here during these pandemic times. Thank you for wicking away the toxins. Thank you for turning me away from the public standard of beauty and tuning into my true self.
Smoothing the wrinkles on my forehead, I appreciate the laugh lines around my eyes. And on my cheeks. I remember all the good times that have transpired. And I look forward to tomorrow.
Patting my soft belly, my tender emotional brain, I greet the real, raw, and vulnerable me who has been craving oatmeal cookies for days.
As I succumb to the crumb, I allow the sweetness of my son’s girlfriend kind gesture to fill me, here, in this vulnerable tender belly. This sacred space that is void of guilt and shame and simply delights in the delicious sweetness of her spontaneous plate of cookies.
Arriving at my doorstep, I receive the sweetness I’ve craved.
I smile into my eyes as I look in the mirror and send healing vibes to this sty in my right eye.
I apply a tender moist heat. This compress of understanding of all the horror that I have seen, and all the beauty that I have soaked in through these rods and cones. A direct circuit to my brain. And I pray for more sunrises and sunsets, smiles and sorrows.
Thank you, eyes, for giving me the experience of a more beautiful way of being in my body.