Welcome Home, Beloved.

Welcome Home, Beloved.

Magic sings in our veins. Pain is not who we are.

Beneath the layers of hurt, shame, and all the ways the world tells us not to be ourselves

There are vast and unharmed meadows 

Filled with bright wildflowers, busy bees, and the gloriousness we are made of.  

What is it to think of ourselves as the beloved?

Our own lover. 

To peer into these incredible places inside of us

That are never, ever lost. No matter the shit we’ve been through…

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