There is no scarier feeling than looking in the mirror and being unable to recognize who we are. Not being able to see our own light, not being able to hear the ruby whispers of our soul.
I felt like that for so long; for too long.
I'd look in the mirror and I'd see dark clouds and regret. Guilt. Sadness. Love lost. Mistakes. Exhaustion. I couldn't see the turquoise seas in my eyes, I couldn't hear the lioness roar of my voice: it was all grey, dark nothingness inside.
All I could see was pain. Mountains of it. Pages of it. Volumes and libraries growing with ivy, edged with tears, sprinkled with tattered rips of agony. But I couldn't see me.
Where was I?
Was I pain itself?
Had I become my suffering?
And so it happens sometimes that pain builds up on our hearts, pain so thick, so poisonous so bitter---that we can no longer see ourselves. We become the pain. We become the suffering.
And it can really feel like there is no way out.
But of course there's a way out.
Because actually, it's very powerful to become our suffering. We can't stay like that forever, no, but there is a sublime power in surrendering to every ounce of pain and letting it break us so profoundly, so completely---that we have no choice but to rise. And to rise fucking beautifully from all the shattered pieces of the wreckage of our hearts.
That's right: we have to do the thing we swear we can't do---we have to feel the pain---all of it---and let it humble us and let it soften us.
We are afraid to let life destroy us, but sometimes that's exactly what needs to happen.
We need to be completely destroyed, dessimated, broken apart so that we can begin again.
Because something inside us will never be destroyed---our spirit. Our soul. Our will to survive.
Sometimes, the evergreen forest of our hearts need to rage with the hottest fires, burning down trees, branches, and green grass---it all crackles with bright orange flames, and wild breezes fanning the flames as everything in sight burns to a crisp and then turns to white ashes.
In the ashes, there are tears. There is hope. There is purification. There is renewal.
It hurts, f*ck yes it hurts, but really---it hurts less than the alternative of living a ghost-like versions of ourselves. It hurts less than lying to ourselves for our entire lives.
The truth is, nothing hurts more than living in grey, when all we desire, all we thirst for is to live in juicy technicolor.
So let transformation take your hand. Let it burn you down. Let it pull you apart.
Let it bring you back to life again.
Let it kiss all the places that ache.
Because there is no better feeling than looking in the mirror and smiling at our reflection and finally—oh fucking finally, being able to see our own light.
Cherish that moment.
It is the spark that will guide you, for the rest of your life.