There is something to remembering that we are more than our current existence.

Each moment comes and goes, undaunted by our desires or attachment.

We can dance in the soupy, goopy pits of stagnation – the mind chasing itself only to find itself where it started.

Or we can drag ourselves, often kicking and screaming into the light; into the flame licking coyly at our fears until we, ourselves become the light.

Ignited by what is both loved and hated, longed for and dreaded.  What is it that attracts and repels us? That which we cannot bear to look upon yet cannot look away.

We are more than our pain.

In this may we remain intact, whole and fully integrated beings. In this resistance to the sweet release of distraction and  compartmentalization can we surrender to the moment. It is in this moment that we are most deeply who we are. Raw and true, secrets turned to ash, we can now re-connect with the world – now we can be what it needs.

We are more than our thoughts.

Alphabet blocks; child’s play, our thoughts. Alphabet soup that we take as law when in any given moment, we can thrust our spoons in, stir and have something new. Such a fickle thing, the mind. Truth one moment, fancy the next and who can tell the difference?!

We are more than our agreements.

When I was young I agreed to this role. I did not understand that I could say no, thank you, so I took it on. It was not my role to take, but another could not sustain it so I took it on. When I agreed it was like pulling on a poorly made jacket that did not belong to me, but over the years it stitched itself to my soul. What was never mine can be refused at any time and left behind. To do this, I must recognize myself from the other.

We are our compassion.

To recognize myself, I must call forth compassion – for myself and for the other. In this compassion I forgive the other.  In this compassion I give myself the right to my own life; to forge my own path…

Separate from the circumstances that brought us together.

Separate from the pain.

Separate from the allure of  my inner world.

Separate from choices I have made or those made for me, that clank and rattle, yielding only wounds and poison.

Whole. Within.