You Are Here

Keep meeting yourself where you're at. Keep diving into it. Just be in that fierce dance with everything that is.

Meet the moment even as you're fighting for the next thing, the next moment, the call back, the job, the girl, the rainstorm, the baby, the house, the book, the sandwich and the cookies, the business, the hurt to leave, the storm to pass, the fireflies to appear.

It's all happening, you know, it's all right now, even when it isn't. You're here. You're alive. Sometimes I wish I could explain it more, that feeling that hit me sometimes, when I know everything is OK, even when it's not OK.

 There are days when something closes, and then others where something opens. You’re moving with that. You’re in it now. You’re an accordion on fire. A match stick. Some flickering lights out over the ocean. Dive deeply. Sink and sink. or swim. I don’t know. You tell me. What’s there? What’s happening? Where now? Where do you want to go?

Use all of you, and then nothing all at once. Float. Those clouds know something we haven’t figured out. Your baby knows something you might have forgotten.

You're not waiting for an ending or a beginning, but a willingness to just be present with the opening-closing-opening. Be braver, be sadder, be freer, be you-er. There are places you can be without even having to go anywhere.

 You're arriving and you've arrived. Keep dreaming, mama. You are the dream.