Who are you really? What makes you tick? Not what do you do for a living. Not who are you in relationship to others…(mother, son, sister, brother, wife, grandpa, etc.). I was asked to describe who I am. After much thought about why I think I’m in existence, I came up with this description.
I am love. I am light. I am truth, real and raw. Both colorful and dark. I am synchronous with growth, death, rebirth following the cycles of nature. I am my own best friend, confidante and lover. I am sensual, funny and deep. I am a beautiful mix of human and spirit. Light and heavy. An unchanged core of varying human experience, I am a beautiful mess.
How would you answer? What would you say?
Feeling gratitude for my slice of this earth…
For The Love Of Gratitude Feb 3, 2019
Do you give thanks everyday for your body? Your amazingly perfect physical-ness? You should! You should express your gratitude for your bones, joints, skin, liver, your feet, your eyesight, your pancreas, your nose, your brain, the hair on your toes, on your head, even parts that hurt, are sick or not exactly making you happy right now. Every organ, every inch of your body. Become aware, today. Become aware of how you choose to treat the miracle of YOU. The miracle of thinking, being, feeling, acting and reacting. Offer it love, give it exercise – whether or not it complains or balks, give it good food – try things you’ve read about and don’t forget the water, generous amounts of water. Say thank you for all the ways you function right now because the more you are aware of your body, the more you will avoid mistreating it.
Sometimes your gifts and talents are barely visible, just under the surface. Often concealed by pretty weighty assaults you’ve collected on your path. Attacks on your self-worth. Attacks on your personal power. Attacks on your right to simply live and BE. Absorbing comments from others… “It’ll never work”, “You can’t make a living doing THAT”, “Don’t brag, no-one likes a show off”, “Better stick to your day job”, “What do you think you’re special or something?”
A Fish Named Karen 